


Keep The Lights On

by SailUncharted



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blind Lance (Voltron), Body Horror, Eye Trauma, Finding Purpose, Five Stages of Grief, Hurt/Comfort, Kuron is Shiro (Voltron)'s Clone, Leader!Keith, M/M, Mutual Pining, RightHand!Lance, Season/Series 03, Seventh Wheel, learning how to live again
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:28:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22220050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SailUncharted/pseuds/SailUncharted
Summary: When a druid’s spell misses its mark, Lance loses the one thing he’s proud of: his perfect eyesight.  Now, he has to fight his own inner battle between his doubts and grief while the war with Zarkon is raging outside. To make matters worse, Keith is in charge of helping him find a cure for his eyes and re-train him. If Lance can’t learn to love himself and find a  place on the team, he’ll lose everything he’s worked for, including his spot in Voltron.A story of loss, depression, and purpose, with a sprinkle of love.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 44
Kudos: 211





	1. Chapter 1

~🔹~ 

Lance leaned over Hunk’s shoulder to peer down at the computer screen. Code flashed by as the program ran under Hunk’s careful supervision. Lance could understand bits and pieces he’d picked up through hanging out with these two, but this was way past his scope. This wasn’t Java or Python; this was some kind of hybrid C script mixed with Altean that Pidge invented. 

“So you run this, and then that--” Lance pointed at the ball-like device in Pidge’s hand. “Will jam the Galra’s guns?” 

Pidge didn’t bother to look up, eyes scanning over the output rating. “No. Not even close. This doesn’t jam guns. It's more like,” she paused to tell Hunk the readout. Setting the ball down, she walked over and rolled Hunk out of the way, leaning over the computer to type. “It’s more like an EMP bomb,” she said as she typed, “at least the result would be similar. Except, since it’s a virus, it’ll spread across the Galra network. The Empire would be completely defenseless in a matter of minutes.” 

Hunk’s chair rolled to a stop against Lance, he leaned down to rest on the back, tilting the chair under his weight. Hunk’s feet lifted from the ground and he swung them back and forth, chair squeaking in time to his kicks. 

Lance whistled low.

“Yeah,” Hunk agreed with Lance’s whistle. “It’s pretty nifty. Pidge is some kind of tech wizard.” 

“More like a technomancer, thank you.” 

Lance pushed Hunk back to the computer. 

Hunk stopped before he ran into Pidge. “I’m going to tweak the amplifier, these numbers aren’t strong enough.” He stood and rolled his chair into the back of Pidge’s knees. “Leaning over like that is bad for you.” 

Pidge nodded, settling into the seat cross-legged. “If you can fix the amplifier to reach at least twenty kilometers we’ll be able to infect three carriers at once. After that, all we’ll need is a copy of the code that generates the Galra’s universal key. So simple.” 

“Like stealing snarlebits from a Qudalfik.” Hunk pulled some wires out of the amplifier and stripped the ends. 

Pidge laughed and put two fingers on her head, wiggling them. “Watch out for the horns.” 

They both cracked up and Lance smiled as if he understood. 

That was Lance’s cue. When Team Punk started telling Altean jokes that meant they’d forgotten he was there. While they were wholly focused on each other, Lance took the opportunity to slip out. The doors slid shut behind him with a heavy sigh. 

This was one of the few times he’d gotten to hang out with them, though Lance didn’t love that it was while they worked on Allura’s special tech assignment. His English was practically native; good enough that no one even thought twice about the fact that it was his second language. Sometimes, he wished they’d remember and not sound frustrated when he asked questions. It hadn't taken him long to stop asking. 

Lance rubbed his forehead. Listening to all their technobabble was exhausting, even after all these years. Maybe he’d take a long bath and call it a day. There was nothing to do until the virus bomb was complete, so he should be able to get away with it. 

Yeah, a bath and a book. He’d started  _ Todos se van  _ last night and was eager to jump back in. The familiar Spanish soothed his starved brain that yearned to hear his native tongue. Thank the stars for Pidge hooking them up with the entire Earth’s library on their phones for Christmas last year. 

~🔹~ 

It was five in the  _ fucking _ morning; couldn’t Shiro ever call a meeting at a normal  _ human _ hour? One of the only good things about Keith's sudden ascendance to leader had been the normal morning hours. Keith didn't seem inclined to give up his own five am training time, so he never called them all together before breakfast. Unless it was an emergency. Of course, that didn’t matter when Shiro decided to play leader or when Keith left for his Blade missions. 

He could feel the bags forming under his eyes. By the time he turned twenty he was going to have wrinkles. Lance groaned under his breath. He’d probably have more than wrinkles by the time this war was over. 

He shook his head. No need to think about that. And plus, if he lost an arm or a leg, he could get a cool one like Shiro. Yeah, he was just going to slam on the breaks and turn his thoughts to something other than being maimed in battle.  _ Thanks, brain. Way to over-do it first thing in the morning. _

Shiro turned to Allura, face shimmering behind the hologram. “Allura will stay here in the castle while our runner connects the chip into the ship’s mainframe. Once the chip is connected, we’ll be able to access their connection and download the code for their key.” Shiro paused, looking each of them in the eye. “We need a volunteer runner.” 

Keith pushed himself off the wall and stepped into the middle of the room. “I’ll do it.” 

Lance guffawed. “That’s stupid.” Black wouldn’t let Shiro in and if something happened to Keith, well… “You’re such a hothead, always trying to outdo everyone else. Why not let a real ninja handle this?” 

Bristling, Keith rounded on Lance, only to be interrupted. 

“Lance,” Shiro warned. 

“But I’m right, you all know I’m right. Not that it matters, you’ll still send Keith.” 

“Actually,” Hunk stood up, hands clasped close to his chest as he fiddled with his fingers. “I hate to say it, but Lance is right. He was the top sprinter at the Garrison and this mission requires speed.” 

Pidge sighed. “Yeah, no. Hunk, unfortunately, has a point. Lance wouldn’t shut up about his record; it's probably still unbroken.” 

“Thanks for the backup guys, but can we be a little more supportive next time?” 

“Nope.” 

“Nuh-uh.” 

Lance rolled his eyes, swiveling his head with the movement to look back at Shiro. “Please? I can do this.” 

Shiro opened his mouth, but it was Keith who cut him off this time. “I believe you.”

“What?” That was the last thing he expected. 

A chorus of surprised echoes sounded behind him.

“You’re the runner unless you’ve changed your mind, then it can go to-”

“No! I’ll do it. Yeah.” Lance plastered a grin on his face to cover his confusion. “You can count on me.”

“I really don’t think this is a good idea,” Shiro said, crossing his arms and placing himself in front of Keith.

“If you have a complaint, you can talk to me in private. My doors are always open.” Keith punched his arm playfully from behind.

Shiro turned and glared at Keith. 

Lance stood slack-jawed, his brain puttering along, barely able to process Keith’s words.  _ Did he just shut down Shiro? In front of everyone? _ He turned to Hunk and Pidge, blinking his unspoken question. 

Hunk shrugged and Pidge rolled her eyes, nodding. Okay, yep, this was really happening. Keith had chosen him for the job instead of taking all the glory for himself. Maybe he really was becoming a leader. 

That thought sent a pang of guilt to his stomach. He was the Red Paladin, of course, he should support Keith, and yet he still slipped back into their old rivalry at the drop of a hat. Especially since Lance couldn’t figure out for the life of him  _ why _ Black picked Keith after that escapade with Lotor. He’d seriously doubted Black’s sanity after finding out about Zarkon’s past. If Black could make a mistake like that, she could definitely make another. 

Yet, day by day, Lance found himself looking at Keith more and more as a leader. Though he didn’t think that Keith actually thought of him as his right-hand man, not really. 

That is, until now. 

“Fine.” Shiro walked away, calling over his shoulder, “Keith is the leader now, do as he says.” 

All eyes followed Shiro’s exit then snapped to Keith. Lance studied the creased brow, the way he chewed on his bottom lip, the clench of his hands at his sides, and stepped forward. “Thanks, Keith. I won’t let you down.” 

Keith’s shoulders lowered and his lips lifted in a half-smile. Lance expected him to say something. What? He wasn’t sure. Instead, Keith turned and followed Shiro out the door. 

_ Nothing’s really changed, then _ , Lance thought with a sigh. 

~️🔹~ 

Lance stared at the data card Pidge handed him. They were in the lab waiting for Keith and the others to go over final briefing before the mission. 

“So, I run in there with this chip.” Lance held up the small data card. “Plug it into their system and run out? Too easy. Let’s do this.” He’d get the data and be back before Keith got here. He turned toward Red, fully intending to do just that. 

“Not so fast.” Pidge grabbed his hood, choking him on his get-away. “Hunk is planting bombs so you have to be out of there in ten. If you’re not, you’ll go up like a Roman candle.” She made a little  _ poof _ with her fingers. 

Lance waved his hand in dismissal. “I know, Pidge. You’ve only said that a hundred-billion times. I get it.” 

Hunk brushed up against his side, resting their shoulders together. Warmth seeped into Lance and he felt himself melt slightly into his friend. “Be careful, okay, buddy?” 

Lance smiled. Hunk understood that he was better at action than talking. “I will. Don’t worry.” 

The lab doors slid open and Shiro walked in with Keith close behind. Lance wondered why Keith seemed so content to be Shiro’s shadow. It was obvious, at least to himself, that Keith had qualities Shiro could only dream of having. Sure, Shiro was close to perfect. He was Lance’s hero after all. He was reliable and kind, and not quite as intimidating as he seemed at first glance. 

But, Keith... Keith had a way about him that was fierce and loyal and driven by justice. Keith was a sharpened knife while Shiro was a polished shield. They both had their uses, but Lance preferred offense. There was something beautifully dangerous about swords that shields lacked. 

“Is everything prepared?” Shiro’s voice cut through Lance’s thoughts. He towered over Lance in more ways than one. Both his height and bulk commanded attention, not just his voice. 

He was more than a shield. Standing next to Shiro reminded him how dangerous the man really was. Where Keith was lean muscle and agility, Shiro was a wall of power. Lance swallowed. Maybe he didn’t know what he was talking about. 

In the end, did it matter? Keith was Black Paladin now, so there was no point in comparing the two. Lance needed to focus on helping Keith become the best leader he could be, even if it was different than Shiro. 

Lance caught up to the conversation as Hunk finished his explanation and Pidge chimed in, “I’ll be monitoring Lance as he runs so I can disable the security in sections. As long as Allura and Hunk have my back, I should be fine and Lance won’t die.” 

“Thanks for that.” Lance let the sarcasm cut through every word. 

Pidge smiled, crooked and bright. “Anytime.” 

“Then we’re…” 

“Then let’s…” 

Keith and Shiro said at the same time, then looked at each other. Lance watched as their eyes had a whole conversation. Rude, honestly. They always seemed to speak silently to each other. No one ever talked to Lance with their eyes. He folded his arms, frowning to himself. 

Shiro won the eye battle. “Then we’re all set. You know what to do. I’ll support you from the castle.” 

The band on Keith’s wrist beeped and the whole team paused to look at him. 

With a click Kolivan’s face popped up. “We have a mission. I’m sending you the coordinates. I expect you there in one quintant.” Specs flew passed Kolivan’s face as the download began. “Do not disappoint me.” 

Beep.

Keith sighed. “Good luck, team. I know you can do it. Shiro has your back.” He clapped Shiro’s shoulder. 

Everyone nodded; Lance sighed. “Let’s just get this over with,” he mumbled. This whole  _ thing _ between Shiro and Keith was awkward for everyone, but Lance felt like it was somehow his fault. Was he supposed to speak up and tell Shiro to let Keith lead? He didn’t know. It’s not like anyone gave him lessons on what to do as Red’s pilot. Plus, the way Keith had acted when he was red paladin was to parrot everything Shiro said. That helped about, oh,  _ zero percent _ . 

Whatever. Keith was leaving. Again. Now wasn't the time to think about Keith, it was time for the mission. Time to prove himself as useful. He could think about this later. They all ran to the hanger as a team, sliding into their respective lions. 

Lance hopped into Red’s pilot seat and buckled in. Red still felt alien; her seat was too low and her steering too loose. Even the mental connection was all hot embers instead of cooling waters. Red was the opposite of Blue in almost every way. It also didn’t help that there were traces of Keith everywhere. Heck, the first aid kit had “Keith” written in black marker and he was pretty sure there was a collection of classic MCR songs in her data frame. All of it was a constant reminder that this wasn’t his lion. 

Pushing the throttle, Lance sped out of the hanger. 

~️🔹~ 

Another explosion rang in his ears, disorienting him. Lance shook off the feeling only to have an unhinged door slam against the wall a millimeter from his face. Pulling his blaster to ready, he recited Pidge’s instructions in his head:  _ detonate the bombs, run to the engine room, cut power, escape. Easy peasy _ . Should be simple enough for a cool ninja sharpshooter like him, right? Yeah,  _ totally _ . Except, no one had planned for all these druids. 

He waited for the last thundering explosion. Once it went off, he’d have three minutes to make it to the engine room. Pidge should’ve turned off the auto-defense system by now, but Lance was wary nonetheless. Pushing the fatigue from his mind, Lance lined up the sight on his sniper rifle with the defensive nodes. Two steps in and nothing went off. Disabling foam and laser blasts were inactive. 

_ Bless that nerd, _ he thought as he lowered his sniper rifle and shifted it to a blaster. 

An explosion sounded behind him; that was his cue. Lance charged down the hall heading straight for the automatic doors.  _ Three minutes _ . Only three minutes left to get himself to the engine room and then off this ship for good. He counted down in his head, long strides keeping time as his footsteps echoed behind him.

White flashed in front of him followed by a thunderous crash.

Squeezing his eyes shut, gold and red fireworks sparked behind his eyelids. The world wobbled. Knives screeched against metal in his ears. He slapped his hands over them, but that only made it worse. Bile crept up his throat and he swallowed it down, willing himself not to spew his guts all over the polished Galra floor. 

_ A flash bomb? _

The world tilted, vibrated, and slowly straightened out as the ringing in his ears dulled. His sight was a pinprick that was slowly expanding. He could make out his hand, then the hallway, and then  _ there _ , his goal. The edges of his vision were still black as he took off again. If he could-- 

“For the Empire,” a voice cried out behind him. 

Lance whipped around, coming face-to-mask with a Galra druid. He squinted through the vignette of his vision as gold and red lightning crackled in the air. The hair on his arms stood on end. 

Not good. He didn’t have time to waste on something higher level than a bot, and anyway, there shouldn’t be live Galra on the ship, let alone a druid. Pidge  _ said _ there wouldn’t be. How long had he been disoriented, how long until the whole ship blew? Panic rose in his chest with the passing of each tick. 

Lance took a deep breath. He had to prove himself. He  _ would _ prove himself to them all; to Allura, Shiro, Pidge, Hunk, and Kei....the universe.  _ Everyone _ . Even if he couldn’t get the data, he’d stop the druids and whatever horrific plan they were cooking up. 

Growling low in his throat, he skipped back a few paces and activated his helmet comms. “It’s been an honor flying with you all,” Lance mimicked Keith. 

The comms flared to life, four voices shouting over each other, all panicked and all questioning. He could only make out, “I’m coming for you, buddy,” from the cacophony before he disabled comms to concentrate on the fight. 

The druid leaped forward, closing the distance in the blink of an eye, robes billowing out around them. Lance dodged, firing a shot mid leap. It went wide.  _ Shit _ . 

Time slowed down as he fell. Fuck, how did he summon it again? Squeezing his eyes closed, he brought up the memory from training; the heft and feel of the broadsword, the shape, and curve of the blade, the feeling of not being good enough. 

_ Keith would’ve been able to defeat the druid and make it out on time. If Keith were the Red Paladin still, he’d be able to do this. _

The blaster shifted in his grip, Altean broadsword taking its place. Lance smirked as his back hit the floor. He’d summoned it again. Rolling with the impact and jumping to his feet, he brandished the blade. Hands shook around the grip, sweat slicking the black metal. 

The druid cast another bright attack, the gold and red lightning thundered from her fingertips. He reeled as electricity shot through his body, setting every nerve on fire as his muscles convulsed. Disoriented and desperate, Lance lashed out, but his blade only met air. His legs gave out from uncontrollable shaking, armored knees slamming onto the floor. He could hear his bones crack even through the plate. The druid followed him to the floor and Lance realized, it wasn’t his legs - the whole ship was tilting. 

His time was up. 

The Druid paused as if listening for something, ear perked. In a flash of purple, they blinked out of existence. Galra apparently didn’t believe in going down with their ship. Lance sighed in relief and self-pity. The fight was over but his death was sealed. Maybe he could still make it and load the data before he went kablooey. If he put the chip in his breastplate that might prevent any damage. 

On his hands and knees, Lance crawled forward, keeping his eyes locked onto the door of the engine room. Metal around him screamed as it shifted and crushed in on itself. There would be a hole behind that door and there was a chance he’d be sucked into space, but he was a goner anyway. 

Did another explosion go off? The world seemed to be growing smaller and smaller. Gold and red crept at the edge of his vision until his peripheral was completely cut off. It didn’t matter though, because he made it. All he had to do was open it and pray that the console was still intact. He put one leg on the frame and used his whole body to pull the doors apart. They squealed as they opened, slowly, way too slow. 

The Galra cruiser careened, throwing him through the air. Lance’s head ricocheted off the wall; the slam of teeth on teeth-rattling his skull. 

_ When did I lose my helmet?  _

Lance blinked through the pain. He squinted, rubbing his head. That would be a bump. There! A blue and white helmet rolled down the hallway.  _ Shit.  _ It would have been funny if it wasn’t being followed by a giant fireball heading straight for him. 

Lance braced for impact, eyes squeezed shut. This was it. 

_ Woosh _

The wall behind him ripped open, a piece of it gripped in the Yellow Lion’s jaw. Surprise snapped his eyes open on instinct and the fireball rushed passed him, burning. He screamed as his flesh bubbled. Lance felt blackness close in around him as he was sucked into the vacuum of space. 

~🔹~

Cool liquid soothed the burning, but it was far away, as if the pain belonged to someone else. This was familiar. He’ been here before. A part of him recognized the healing pod, but that too felt distant and foggy. Calm detachment washed over him as artificial sleep took over. Lance relaxed into the lull of half-consciousness as his body repaired itself with the help of Altean tech. 

~🔹~

Feeling rushed back into his limbs and the tepid liquid was replaced by cold air. Lance opened heavy eyes. No, that wasn’t right. He tried again, blinking open and closed. 

_ What?  _

Was he still inside looking through liquid and glass? He rubbed his eyes but nothing changed. Everything looked like dim shapes and bright lights. It was like looking through muddy water. 

“Lance!” Allura’s voice. Lance turned toward the sound, blinking and squinting. 

“Allura?” His voice cracked around her name. Relief and fear intermingled in the pit of his stomach. His smile felt like it split his face in half, the skin pulled tight around his teeth and lips cracking painfully from the sudden dryness. Fear grew cold in the pit of his stomach, heavy and threatening to evolve into panic. 

“Lance, what’s wrong, buddy?” Hunk’s voice. Lance turned toward the sound, frantic eyes darted around trying to distinguish the shapes in front of him. Four? Five? He rubbed his eyes, trying to wipe away the muck. 

“My eyes. My  _ eyes _ . Why can’t I see?!” Chest heaving and head feeling light, Lance slumped down to the floor, slowly opening and closing his fingers in front of his face. He pulled them close, a millimeter away from his nose and squinted. He held them as far as his arm would allow and opened his eyes as wide as possible. Nothing. 

A large, warm hand clutched his shoulder and pulled him into a broad chest. He felt the rumble as Hunk spoke, “What’s wrong with him, Coran?” 

“I’m not sure, I’d have to take a look.” Coran cleared his throat. “Bring him to the table, would you?” 

“C’mon, buddy.” Hunk said quietly into his hair and Lance felt himself being lifted. The panic was replaced with calm nothing, emotions fizzling into fatigue. Numb, he felt numb. This wasn’t real. There was no reason to panic over a dream. He’d wake up and be ready to leave for the mission. This was one of those mission dreams. Yeah, that’s it. Like a school dream where you show up naked, only he showed up-- Lance swallowed.  _ Wake up. Please, wake up.  _

He shivered as cold examination table seeped through the thin layer of his healing pod suit. Coran talked lowly as gentle fingers brushed across his face. “Don’t worry, my boy, we’ll figure this out.” He repeated until Lance was sick of it. Ringing replaced voices and nausea rushed up his throat. 

He didn’t want this to be  _ figured out _ , the healing pod fixed everything, he should be fine. Why wasn’t he fine? Where had everything gone so horribly wrong? Lance wanted to scream, he wanted to curl up and cry, he wanted to go  _ home _ . But home wasn’t an option, he didn’t get options anymore. Everything was forced on him, this war, the Red Lion, and now, this. His eyesight was the only thing that made him useful as the team’s sharpshooter and it was ripped away without his consent. 

Something beeped next to his ear and he startled. 

Coran tisked. “This shows nothing wrong with your human optics.” 

“Then what’s the problem?” Pidge’s voice. Pidge was here too. 

“Well, number five, I do seem to be picking up trace elements of dark energy. I can’t say for sure, but it looks like it’s latched onto Lance’s human nerves. I’ll have to do more research.” He held out the datapad to her.

Pidge pushed up her glasses. “Do you think it could’ve been the explosions? Maybe there was corrupted quintessence on board that we didn’t calculate for.” 

“Stop!” Lance squeezed his eyes shut and sighed, his voice just over a whisper, “Just, stop, okay?” 

“You must let Coran examine you,” Allura said in her sickly smooth lilt. 

He pointed his finger and glared in Allura’s direction. “No, no I  _ mustn't _ .” Lance was going to choose something for himself for the first time since he left Earth, no matter how petty it might seem, or how detrimental. “They’re my eyes and I can do what I want with them. And right now, me and my eyes want to go to my room,” 

Coran’s hand fell heavy on his shoulder and with it, guilt settled in his stomach. “I’m tired. Please let me go,” he pleaded. 

Coran’s hand squeezed gently and Lance took that as an affirmative. 

He pushed himself off the table and strode forward trying to navigate the glaring brightness and shifting shadows. Someone large stepped into his path, shifting from his now useless peripheral into the small circle of dirty glass-like vision. Unable to correct his course, he bumped roughly into Hunk’s soft belly. 

“Lance.” It was a warning. 

“Please, Hunk.” He sounded miserable even to his own ears, tears falling down his face again. “Please.” God, he couldn’t keep his emotions under control, like he was on a rollercoaster of hot panic and cold detachment. 

Hunk sighed, “Okay, c’mon.” Hunk grabbed his shoulders and led him through the now unfamiliar castle ship until they reached his room. 

Relief swept over Lance. This was his space, it was safe. He could navigate his own room blind if he had to. 

_ Well, now I guess I do.  _ He mentally shook that thought out of his head; no, this was just a healing pod error, he’d be fixed in no time. Lance broke away from Hunk and threw himself on the bed, maybe a bit dramatically. 

Hunk sighed. Lance imagined him all tense and hovering, hands pulled in close to his chest waiting to launch into action. “You hungry? I could bring you some leftovers.” 

Lance nodded. “Thanks, buddy, but I’m not feeling it.” 

“I’ll bring you something, just in case.” Hunk stopped in the doorway. “I’ll be right back, I promise.” 

The doors sweep close. 

Alone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did a lot of research for this fic idea for years (I had this idea back in like, 2017). Most of my research was watching blind YouTubers talking about their life and blindness. I also read articles and papers, but I am not blind. I did my best to make Lance's experience with losing his eyesight after birth something close to reality, including the reactions of people around him.
> 
> Thank you to the beautiful art by [Princely Affairs](https://princely-affairs.tumblr.com)!!! Omg it's so amazing!!!! I can't wait to get to the rest!!!
> 
> Also I had trouble with wedging Klance into this, so special thanks to AutumnIgnighted for helping me re-work this story.  
> [Follow me on Twitter](https://twitter.com/SailUnchartd)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm also on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/SailUnchartd) and I'm actively posting on my pseudo: [SailUnchartedWaters](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlassAlice/pseuds/SailUnchartedWaters)

~🔹~

Sweat poured down his forehead, stinging his eyes even though they were shut tight. Lance fisted the sheets as he tried to pull himself out of the dream. The scene played over and over in his head, like a gif loop he couldn’t escape. Every time he thought it was over he was jerked back to the beginning again. 

He watched the fireball envelop him. A close up of his eyes as he tried to shield himself from the flames but then slow motion as Yellow’s jaws cut through the ship wall.

Even as the fire burned him, his eyes jerked open on reflex as he was swept out into space. He could feel the moister ripped from the delicate flesh. The liquid of his eye boiling inside his skull.

Such a dumb mistake. 

He gasped awake, eyes flying open before slamming closed. Even without sight, he could see the fireball coming for him. 

Coran’s datapad had said that it was druid magic. But if he hadn’t opened his eyes, if he hadn’t burned himself, maybe his eyes wouldn’t be as bad. Maybe he would have more sight. 

He panted as his mind raced, trying to calm down. But all he could do was overthink and overanalyze every minute detail. 

What if it wasn’t the fire or the magic? It could’ve been his head slamming against the Galran ship? This was just some kind of severe concussion. He  _ did _ feel like throwing up, that was a symptom of concussions right? If that was the case, he shouldn’t be sleeping. 

He sat up, wiping his forehead with his blanket. Wrapping his arms around his knees, he tried to calm himself down. If it was the golden red magic of the Druid, did that mean he was doomed? Was he blind now? He lifted his hand in front of his face, waving it. A shadow waved back. 

_ From a temporary replacement to a casualty.  _

Lance hiccuped through gasps. He wouldn’t be a casualty. There was no way he was going to stay here useless and broken. He’d leave. Go back home. Yes, pack his stuff and go back to his mom and his family where he belonged. 

He crawled off the bed and felt around for his drawers. With shaking hands he dumped them out, glass containers and alien souvenirs clattering and clacking to the floor. Throwing the empty drawer behind him, he scrambled to sweep them into a pile. Hissing, he stuck his finger in his mouth. It tasted like blood. One of his trinkets must’ve broken, great. 

“Useless and broken, you’re useless and broken.” He grabbed at the contents and threw them as hard as he could across the room as he repeated his mantra. Some shattered or clunked against the wall, while others bounced across the floor. What was the point of this junk anyway? Broken things were trash no matter how you looked at it. It was all trash. 

He used the nightstand to lift himself up and felt his way to the closet. Bits of glass dug into the soles of his feet. “Fuck.” He felt around and pulled a shard from his foot. Anger bubbled up, threatening to spill over. “I hate it. I hate you.” He threw the shard and turned toward the closet. Everything needed to be destroyed. He ripped clothing from their hangers, throwing them to the floor. 

“If Pidge’d given me more time to make it to the Engine room, this wouldn’t have  _ fucking  _ happened. Fucking mission, fucking Pidge, fucking stupid-ass war!” Lance screamed, wrenching the clothes with both hands, not caring about the delicate fabrics. He wanted to break everything around him. He wanted to tear it all down until his world reflected how he felt inside. 

He hated the rational part of his brain that told him he was overreacting, that he was making a fool of himself. It whispered that this was all his fault, that he deserved it. He pulled at his hair, hitting his head with his fits to shut it up. That part of him was always there, telling him he was the seventh wheel and he didn’t need that right now. Right now, he needed to be angry. He wanted to blame someone, but the stupid voice in his head only blamed himself. 

He crumbled under its voice, mumbling apologies. 

“No, it’s not Pidge’s fault,” Lance’s voice cracked. “Pidge is just a kid, it’s not Pidge who should be making plans anyway.” He fell to his knees as he rounded on the pile; grabbing at anything he could, even the already broken ones. Solid objects were thrown and clothing was ripped as he tore into the pile. 

“It’s Keith, he’s the Black Paladin, the true Red Paladin, Shiro’s chosen one. This would have been his job, but he left, he left  _ you _ . Left you to clean up his mess.” A jar of face cream fell from limp fingers as his whole body shook. Lance let himself crash to the floor, curling into a ball on top of his rumpled clothes and encircled by his broken belongings. His hands throbbed as blood dripped from his fingertips and he was pretty sure his knees were cut through the fabric of his pants. 

“But now you’re the mess.” Eyes wide but unseeing, he pulled at his hair. 

Rocking as he hugged himself, he asked the room, “And who’s going to clean you up?” 

That’s how Hunk found him, surrounded by all the junk he’d collected on their travels shivering and sobbing. 

“Woah, woah, woah, what’s all this?” The warm smell of cinnamon and sugar wafted through the room, reaching Lance before Hunk did.  _ Cinnamon rolls.  _ “Oh God, Lance. Your hands.” 

One of Lance’s hands was pulled between two warm palms and he snatched it back. “I’m packing.” Lance pouted and gestured vaguely with his head. 

“What? No. This is isn’t packing, this is a hurricane.” Bottles clinked as Hunk pushed the mess away, sliding up next to him. A warm hand traced gentle circles on his back. 

“It is what I say it is.” Lance hated that Hunk’s hand felt good; he didn’t deserve the comfort. “I’m packing and I’m leaving for home.” 

Hunk nudged him. “Why would you leave?” Anger filtered through Hunk’s soft voice. 

“Oh, I don’t know, Hunk? Why would the  _ blind sharpshooter  _ leave? Maybe  _ you _ should tell  _ me _ ,” Lance’s words fell like razors from his lips. 

Hunk politely ignored the tone. “Look, Coran is doing the best he can, he’ll get you fixed up.” His hand continued to rub small circles on his back. 

Lance leaned back, finally relaxing slightly. It was hard not to around Hunk. “You don’t know that. You don’t know anything. I’m just going to get in the way now,” Lance said, soft and whining. He wasn’t really mad now, more like throwing a tantrum. He reached out, randomly gathering his stuff that was scattered around them, “I refuse to go from seventh wheel to pity-poor-Lance.” 

Large hands stilled his movements. “Lance,” Hunk said in warning. 

Lance felt his last bit of strength seep out. A slight tug at his wrists had him falling forward into Hunk’s warm embrace. Lance shivered. The castle was so cold.

Under the weight of Hunk’s safe arms, he finally let himself truly cry. Lance cried loud and ugly, letting all his fears spill freely. Shaking fingers clutched desperately to his best friend in a pile of junk, in his room that wasn’t  _ his _ room, in the middle of the void of space. 

Far. So very far from home. 

~🔹~

He’d spent the past week in his room moping. Lance only left for medical check ups with Coran, or mandatory meetings with the Paladins. It was hours of Hunk begging that somehow convinced him to come to dinner for the first time. No, ‘convinced’ was the wrong word. 

Yesterday, Hunk hit him with an ultimatum. “Fine, just stay in your room and starve to death. I’m not bringing you any more food. You have to get out of your room and stop feeling sorry for yourself.” Hunk had kept his threat, no food came for the rest of the day or the next. Eventually, Lance’s stomach won over his pride. 

He got up and fumbled around his room. The mess he’d made long gone had been cleaned by the same oaf that was currently trying to starve him out. Lance felt around for a new set of clothes. He ran his fingers over the fabric hanging in his closet, soft cotton all the same to him now. Following the line of cloth he found a long sleeved tee and pulled it off its hanger. Lance felt around the neck, finding the tag. He faced it away from him and upside down. Holding onto the bottom of the shirt, he slipped his arms in then pulled it over his head. The fabric choked him. Lance checked the tag and found it in the front. 

“Coño,” he growled out, pulling his arms back in and spinning the shirt around. He was so  _ careful  _ how did he get that wrong? Maybe this was all a mistake, he should just stay in his room and rot. 

Lance’s stomach growled in protest for a full ten seconds. 

“Okay, fine, I’ll go. But I’m only going to get food and bring it back. There’s no way I’m eating in front of everyone.” There was a reason he’d avoided this at all costs. 

He found his jeans on the floor and shrugged them on, careful with the zipper. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he placed a hand on the wall and ventured out of his room. 

He knew the way to the mess hall, of course he did. It was straight to the elevator, second right, first left, two more rights, and then a left. So, where were the elevators? They should be right here. He felt against the wall where he thought the buttons were. Nothing. 

He took a step back, squinting through the small pin pricks of sight he still had. His head throbbed. “Fuck me.” He rubbed his eyes with his palms. 

“I’d rather not,” Pidge said. 

Lance jumped, hand over his heart. “Oh my God, Pidge. Don’t sneak up on me like that.” 

“I  _ literally _ came that way, not my fault you didn’t see me.” 

Pidge was  _ literally _ going to be throttled, by him, in two seconds. “I have no idea what ‘that way’ is.” He waved a hand over his eyes. “Can’t tell.” 

“Hm,” Pidge hummed. “But you’re looking at me. I mean your eyes are moving but you’re not looking at the wall or something. Are you sure you can’t see?” 

Anger boiled under his skin. “I think Coran already confirmed that.”   
  
“Hey, palidudes, are you on your way to the mess too?” Hunk asked behind them. 

They both spun around in surprise. 

“Ha! I knew it. You can see.” 

“I can’t see, but I’m not deaf.” 

“But you looked at Hunk. You looked  _ right _ at him.” 

“Do you honestly think I’m lying?” 

“Well,” Pidge paused, thinking. “It seems like you can see something.” 

“I don’t have time for this. Hunk, take me to the mess hall?” 

“Sure, dude. Follow me.” 

Lance nodded. He heard Pidge grumbling behind him, but ignored her. Hunk offered his elbow and Lance took it. 

The whole castle was a maze. He remembered getting lost when he’d first arrived. But all the landmarks he’d memorized were visual. Turn after weird ornate turn made him dizzy. The only way he could tell them apart were the slight changes in air pressure when doors opened and closed or when they changed from small rooms to massive ones.

Soon the smell of food told him they’d made it. It didn’t smell great, but it wasn’t goo and that’s what mattered. Hunk lead him to a chair and Lance sat down. Step one, complete. All that was left was to eat and get back to his room. So easy.

“A meal for champions! This recipe was passed down from my great great great great grandfather who built the first eatery on Altea,” Coran said as he burst into the room and the smell got stronger. 

Everyone sat back and groaned. 

That made Lance happy he couldn’t see, it smelled like it had tentacles. But he didn’t  _ know  _ and that was amazing. He could be blissfully unaware of the horrific shape of his food as he ate. 

“Why can’t Hunk cook?” Pidge whined from his right.

“We agreed that every Nunftember I would make historic meals of the paladins for you to learn your history.This one was one of Alfor’s favorites.”

“I thought Nunftember wasn’t real when we agreed,” Pidge muttered.

The spoon should be to his right. He reached out. Yep, phewf. His fingers closed around the spoon. It was weird how his body still knew things without eyes to guide it. The fact that he didn’t need to see to find the spoon, as long as it was where it was supposed to be, made him rethink how much he relied on his sight.

He tightened his grip around the handle and went for the plate of food. Casually as he could he searched for the edge of the plate. 

Found it. 

Now, he just had to get the food on the spoon and eat it. Easy, he had this. Lifting up one finger from the table, he tried to use the plate to hide what he was doing. He touched the food to judge how far it was. It felt like Jell-O. Gross. But, this was working; he’d found where his spoon should go. 

He scooped a corner of it and the goo slid off his spoon. It took a few more tries to get it to stay. Thankfully, it sounded like no one else was having an easy time keeping it on their spoons either. Once he had a bite secure, he brought it to his mouth and ate. 

Smiling, he chewed through the disgusting texture. The flavor wasn’t much, kinda spicy. The texture on the other hand, was rubbery and slick. None of that mattered though. He was eating and he wasn’t making a fool out of himself.

“Hey.” Pidge’s voice to his left. “You want some help?”

“M’fine,” Lance said around his mouthful of squiggly food.

Pidge either hadn’t heard him, which was really unlikely given that they were about a foot apart, or was actively choosing to ignore him. “Here. Open up.”

A spoon pressed against his mouth. He dodged it, knocking the spoon away. “Dude, Pidge. What are you doing?” The goop fell into his lap as the spoon clattered to the floor.

“I’m helping!” She sounded annoyed, frustrated. “Just trying to help.” 

“I got this. I was doing fine.” Lance wiped away the jelly-like stuff on his pants, flicking it to the floor.

“Hey Pidge,” Hunk began. “How about -”

“How about  _ what? _ ” Pidge was definitely riled. “What are we supposed to do, if not  _ help _ ?”

“Feeding me like a baby _ isn’t helping _ . Letting me eat in peace  _ is helping. _ " Lance stood up, knocking over the chair. "And why do you wanna help me anyway if you think I can see?”

“Well, what else am I supposed to do?” Pidge stood scraping her own chair. “Sit back and watch you struggle? Or worse,  _ sulk _ ?”

"How about trying to get back to normal, huh? Treating me like me?" He banged his fist on the table. Hot anger dulled the sting. No one understood; no one got it. He was more alone then he’d ever been. 

Pidge’s voice came closer. “How? You want us to act like nothing’s going on?” Her breath was sour with dinner. 

Something snapped inside him and he was a live wire, crackling and ready to burn. “Fuck you, as if you ever cared in the first place.” He shoved Pidge, hard. Plates and silverware followed Pidge down, clattering around the dull thud of her fall. 

It wasn’t enough. 

He lunged forward, hitting his head on the way down as he threw punches erratically. Now and then he hit something soft which he hoped was a piece of Pidge.

“That’s  _ enough _ !” 

It was Allura’s voice that broke through the chaos, and a strong pair of arms was pulling Lance back before he could land another blow on anything.

Pidge was chattering in surprise, things like “He pushed me! That son of a bitch pushed me!” interspersed with Coran’s voice, low and murmuring. 

“How about you and I take a walk, Number Five.”

“I don’t want to take a walk! Did you see that?!” Pidge was near hysterical. “He tried to punch me!”

“Come on.” Coran’s false brightness was steely. “Off we go.” 

Hunk’s breath was right by Lance’s cheek as he set Lance down and righted him. “Alright there, buddy? That was -” 

He was interrupted by Allura. “ _ Unacceptable! That  _ is what that was! I understand that you are angry, Lance, but intentionally harming a valuable member of Voltron is unacceptable under  _ any  _ circumstances, do I make myself perfectly clear?” 

Valuable member of Voltron? 

The sting of those words cut right to his heart. The implication was perfectly clear.

He wasn’t angry; he was seething. None of this was fair and none of them cared. For the first time since coming to space, he hated Allura. He hated all of them. “Then it’s a good thing I’m not part of this team.” He tried to get up to storm out but Hunk pressed him down.

“Get off me!” He screamed, voice breaking. “I don’t want this! I don’t  _ want  _ this.” Whether he meant his own actions or his situation, he wasn’t sure. Lance pushed at the solid wall that was Hunk. 

“Excuse us, Princess,” Hunk said, and in another second, Lance was bodily lifted onto Hunk’s shoulders, fireman style. 

He hit Hunk’s back over and over with his fists, demanding to be put down. Expletives cut their way out of his mouth. Aimed at Hunk and Pidge and Allura and anyone else he could think of. Keith for leaving. Coran for diagnosing him. The war. The Galra. God. Every God.

Hunk, the mass of him, was wholly unbothered by Lance’s fit as he walked through the hall towards the bedrooms. There was the whoosh of a door opening, and in short order, Lance was deposited back on his feet. In another three seconds, he had a full stream of cold water blasting him in the face. 

Sputtering, Lance tried to escape the freezing water. “Hunk!” He backed up and hit wall. He ran towards Hunk, trying to get passed him, but Hunk pushed him back in. Panic took over and he crouched on the floor, balling up and shivering under the spray. “I hate you.”

“I can live with that,” Hunk said calmly, gradually turning the handle to warm the spray. “But I’m not gonna let you hate yourself, which you will, once you calm down. You’ll overthink it all and feel angry for all new reasons. So we’re gonna sit here for a bit and we can talk or not talk, but either way, I’m not leaving.” 

Too angry at Hunk’s kindness that refused to give him an out, Lance sulked on the cold tile. He didn’t talk, but his mind raced. What he’d done replayed over and over in his head as the water warmed and soaked through his clothes. The shower quenched the fire inside him and anger was replaced with shame. Then he didn’t want to talk for whole new reasons.

Stupid Hunk. Stupid being right.

He sat there and Hunk didn’t leave. Well passed the time Lance felt that he, himself, would’ve left, Hunk stayed. Lance buried his face in his arms, unsure if he was crying.

“Why?” he finally choked out.

Hunk’s hand came down on his wet jacket. “Gotta be more specific than that, my dude.”

Lance shook his head. “Why everything. Why are you still here. Why did I freak out like that. Why would anyone want to be around me. Why did this happen.” Curling his arms around his head, he tugged at his hair.

Hunk’s hands pulled them away and soon Lance was wrapped in a tight hug. 

“Better question,” he said, smoothing over Lance’s abused hair. “What next?”

“There’s no next,” Lance muttered into Hunk’s shoulder. He was definitely crying. He was so  _ sick _ of crying. 

Hunk didn’t speak - just stayed in the spray and waited for Lance to elaborate. 

Unfortunately for Lance he had a desperate need to fill all silences. Hunk knew him too well. “I can’t be a paladin anymore. I can’t fight. I can’t even find my way around the castle.” He breathed in Hunk’s warm scent. “And now I hurt Pidge.”

“Pidge is fine, trust me, and honestly, she kind of deserved it. Not to be pushed to the ground I guess, but she’s been pushing your buttons. I don’t think it was intentional, though. In her weird Pidgey way, I think she was showing her concern.” 

Lance didn’t have the mental capacity to untangle that mystery. "I'm so tired. I wanna go back." 

Hunk’s hands continued to stroke his hair. “I know, but how about we settle for letting you take an actual shower and I’ll grab you some real food? Just for right now?”

Lance nodded. “I think I can do that.”

~🔹~

Showered, dried and set free, Lance made his way back to his room. As he was about to turn the corner he heard Pidge’s voice. He shouldn’t have eavesdropped, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted to know what she was thinking.

“But that’s the thing, Shiro! He did this kind of thing all the time at the Garrison. We just learned that if there was something Lance was afraid to do, he’d have a stomachache or a fever or who knows what - Malaria, I don’t know! It just meant he didn’t want to deal.”

Pidge wasn’t necessarily wrong about their time at the Garrison. But still, he wouldn’t- 

“Coran examined them and while his eyes  _ are _ functional, he found dark quintessence fusing with them. A test is one thing Pidge, but do you really think he’d do this to Voltron?”

Yeah, that.

“I...I don’t know. It just seems like it must not be that bad. He seems normal, y’know? He looks at me when I talk to him and not in that blind way that you see in movies. He stares with his  _ eyes _ . So I thought maybe…”

“He does seem to turn when people enter and look at his phone when he’s using it,” Shiro said, humming to himself. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Pidge. I’ll have Coran look into it.”

_ What?! _

Pidge seemed equally taken aback. “Um. Yeah, I guess...but…”

_ Oh come on,  _ Lance thought. He was about to step out of his hiding spot and defend himself when Pidge stopped him. 

“It’s just, what you said earlier? About Lance doing this to Voltron. The thing is...I honestly don’t know if he’d take it that far.” There was something in Pidge’s voice that glued Lance’s feet to the floor. What was going on? Why had she turned her story on its head?

“I understand Pidge, but if Lance is a threat to Voltron-”

“Threat? No, It's just- I dunno. It’s easier to imagine he’s fine and just kidding around to get out of work.”

Shiro’s voice was commanding and final, "We all want Lance to be okay. Even me. So if there's a chance that it's not as bad as it seems, then I want it to be true." 

There was a pause and Lance wished he could peek around the corner to see what was happening. There was so much conversation that was body language. Even with his ears, Lance felt like he was missing half the conversation.

“...Sure.” Pidge’s voice was tight, hesitant. Not Pidge-like at all. “...Thanks, Shiro.” 

Lance waited till their footsteps died away and even then he didn't move. His heart pounded as he waited. Pidge thought he faked it. If Pidge thought that, how many more did? Hunk? Allura?

Eventually, he peeled himself from his hiding spot and made it to his room. All the while thoughts of his teammates doubting him pressed on his mind. 

~🔹~

Lance wasn't there for Keith's return. He wasn't there for the big meeting with the Blade. (Not that anyone tried to find him for it.) He didn't even go to dinner, which would probably be a big celebration. 

Lance didn't, because he was still angry at Keith for leaving. Or, well, he used to be angry and he wasn’t sure what other way to feel. Mostly, though, he was hurt. It was just easier to be angry than to explore the pain every time he thought about it. 

That's why he was in his room, curled around a pillow and feeling sorry for himself. He had every intention of staying that way until Keith left again. 

The door beeped. 

"Go away, Hunk. I already ate." Lies seemed to come so easy ever since  _ that.  _

“It’s not Hunk,” Keith’s muffled voice said. “And no, you didn’t. Can I come in?”

Keith’s voice made everything so much more real. Keith was no longer an abstract idea of a friend who abandoned him. How long had it been? Weeks? That was the last time Lance saw him and the last time he’d actually ever see him with his own two eyes ever again. He hadn’t known. There was no way to know. That last goodbye, what did he even say? Did he even look at Keith?

He wasn’t sure if he could trust himself. “What do you want?”

“To talk to you?” Keith sounded annoyed, perplexed. “Since I haven’t seen you in a while?” 

The faster this was over the faster he could be alone again. “Fine, do what you want.”

The door opened. Keith’s footsteps approached, heavier and more solid than they had been the last time he’d been here. They came to a stop in front of Lance, scuffling now and then as he shifted his weight. “You know why I’m here,” he said at last. 

Lance sighed, uncurling from his pillow to sit up. He slumped over his knees, resting his chin in his hands to stare up at Keith. “I know why you came back, but I don’t know why you’re in my room.”

Keith scoffed. “Oh, I don’t know, because we were actually getting along well before I left? And I guess it’s outside the realm of possibility for you that I might be concerned?” 

“You’re not here to give me a Shiro lecture?” Lance swallowed what he really wanted to say. There was no point in talking about how Keith abandoned him. It wasn’t like it was personal. Keith abandoned them all.

“Wouldn’t dream of it. Not when the man himself is out there with a few dozen already memorized and ready to go.” Keith must have sunk down to the floor, since his voice was coming from in front of Lance now instead of above. Lance’s head naturally followed the sound. 

“Look.” Keith sigh. “You don’t like me enough to feel obligated to spare my feelings or lie. So, how are you holding up? Really.” 

There was no way Lance would correct that statement. It was safe, normal, their usual place around each other and Lance desperately needed some normal. The worst his confession would do was drive Keith away again and he was used to that now. “It’s shit. Worse than shit. I know I’m a nightmare to be around and poor Hunk. Did they tell you about what I did to Pidge?”

“I’ve heard a condensed version, yeah. That was when I knew things were really bad.” Keith sighed, shifting around so that his boots squeaked as he got comfortable. “I’m sorry this happened. I don’t like the way they keep talking about you."

Lance was taken aback by that. Of all the things he imagined Keith telling him, that wasn't even a possibility. He wanted to say thank you or to find out why Keith would care about how anyone talked about him when they didn't like each other. 

But before he could even open his mouth, Keith continued, "I know they want us to train together, and if it would help, of course I’ll do it. But I’ll tell you this - I’m not going back to being the Red Paladin.” 

The small hope that Keith wanted to be a team again was snuffed out. There was a long pause as Lance chewed on his words and Keith sat there. 

"If you train me and you think I'm unsuitable to be part of Voltron, I want you to convince Shiro and the princess to let me leave." 

Keith was quiet. After another minute he said, stern but emotive, “If you want to leave, I won’t be the one to stop you. But you have to give it your all. You can’t just throw training because you’re frustrated or because giving up is easier. Deal?” 

“Deal.”

“Good. We’ll start in the morning.” Keith stood and bent and suddenly there was a tray pressed against him. 

Lance was forced to take it. He held it awkwardly in the air.

“And that is dinner.” Keith stepped back. “Liar.” It was goading, but...fond. It had the same sort of teasing camaraderie they had reached before Keith had left. “See ya.” 

Lance didn't say anything back. He waved by holding his hand half way up as the doors shut. That was. Weird. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to [Mintusti](https://twitter.com/mintusti) for sticking with me through one of the hardest times in my life and betaing this while i did. Also thanks to [Autumn Ignited](https://twitter.com/AutumnIgnited) for helping me out and just being there for me. and also Freya who was sweet and talked me through some of these scenes 
> 
> I know there was a huge gap in time between chapters and I still can't promise how constant this fic will be updated. I lost my cat in the middle of this and its been hard to come back to.
> 
> If you're still here and you still like this fic, i'd love a comment. Just let me know you're out there <3
> 
> I'm also on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/SailUnchartd) and I'm actively posting on my pseudo: [SailUnchartedWaters](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlassAlice/pseuds/SailUnchartedWaters)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check me out on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/SailUnchartd)

~🔹~ 

Training with Keith was not the same as Shiro, or any of the others. Keith had no chill when it came to Lance's antics and he had even less for Lance giving up. 

“Get up,” Keith commanded. 

Lance wanted to punch that command in the face. And by command he meant Keith. The asshole didn’t even sound winded despite twenty minutes of hard training. 

“You’re not tired, you’re annoyed, and it’s making you sloppy. You can do better than that.” Keith tapped his shoulder.

“I can’t  _ see _ . This is pointless.” Yes, he was whining, but he deserved a good whine. Especially after having to put up with this stupid training session. “I’m a sharpshooter without eyes. You’re not going to be able to turn me into a blind swordsman.”

“Not with that attitude.” And damned if Lance couldn’t  _ hear  _ that snarky, cocky smirk. “Now stand up and come at me again. Without using the same move over and over this time.” 

Lance sat up and threw his sword at Keith. “There. Happy?”

“Lance.” Keith’s voice was steal. “We had an agreement. If you want to be angry, fine, but channel it into your training.” 

“You wanted something different,” Lance muttered but summoned his bayard back to his side. It went into whatever pocket the magical tech suits had. A moment later and he had the sword out as he lowered his stance. Lance closed his eyes, blocking out the shifting light that made his brain spin. 

Even though he couldn’t process the blurry shadows, closing his eyes was terrifying. Every instinct screamed at him to open his eyes again so he could see what was happening. It didn’t matter that he knew he couldn’t see, the panic still built up to boiling inside him. 

Tightening his grip, Lance pushed his thoughts away and lowered his stance. 

There was no way he would ever win against Keith. Keith was a natural sword fighter, had been since they became paladins. That dagger of his was probably his rattle or something as a baby. It was completely unfair. 

Lance took a deep breath. Nope, there was no winning this, but his bayard had been through more battles than any of them. Maybe if he just let it...do its thing. 

Lance ran straight ahead, sword lifted.  _ C’mon bayard, fight him. _

A cold shiver of electricity jolted down his arm, tugging it to the left to meet Keith’s blade in a loud clash. 

“Better,” Keith praised, parrying in a circle big enough to send Lance back a step or two. “But keep your balance in your feet. Don’t put it all forward, or you’ll fall, or get knocked away. Do that again, but keep your weight in the center.”

“Holy shit. Better? I hit you! That’s better than  _ better. _ ” Lance rounded on Keith, waving his sword. “You’ve been throwing me to the ground for the past five hours and all I get is  _ better? _ ”

“Well, yeah.” Keith sounded confused. “You hit me. That  _ is  _ better than getting thrown to the ground. Now do it again.” 

Lance threw down his sword and kicked it. “No.”

“Lance,” Keith said warningly. 

“Nope. I’m not doing this.” He turned to stalk out. “Nothing’s ever good enough for you and I’m done.”

He was yanked back by his wrist. “What is that supposed to mean?” 

“It  _ means _ ,” Lance hissed, spinning his wrist to escape. Keith twisted with him and he clicked his tongue.  _ Asshole, _ always thought he was better. “Exactly that. No one is good enough for you.”

The grip tightened but Keith’s voice was weaker. “That’s...that’s not true. At all.” 

Hours of training under Keith said otherwise. “I can’t live up to your expectations. If Voltron isn’t even good enough for you, then how could- How could I-” Lance sighed. “Look. I’m tired and my head hurts. Can we start again tomorrow?”

“You think…” There was a sharp intake of breath. “You think I joined the Blades because I thought Voltron was…” Suddenly, Lance’s wrist was released with a little shove. 

When Keith spoke again, it was from behind a cold wall that locked Lance out. “Fine,” he said, clipped. The thud of his boots retreated towards the door in a brisk trudge, just shy of stomping. 

Lance stuck out his tongue. How dare Keith think he could waltz in here and take over Lance’s life after abandoning him- Voltron. Abandoning the  _ team _ . This was just like Keith, always thinking he was better than everyone else. Ugh. That jerk got on his every last nerve. 

Despite his anger, a trickle of guilt ran cold down Lance’s spine. 

Fucking Keith. 

~🔹~

“Lance just needs more encouragement when he gets things right.” Hunk leaned back in his chair away from the star map he was pouring over to blink tiredly at Keith. “He’s like a puppy. If you punish him too much he’ll wet the floor.” Hunk wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “Okay, that was a bad analogy, but you get the idea.”

Keith crossed his arms and scowled. “He’s not five. And I  _ gave  _ him a compliment! Besides, if I got all gushy about it, he wouldn’t believe me anyway.”

Hunk hummed thoughtfully. “You have a point.” He stood, flipping the chair around to rest his elbows on the back. “He already thinks you hate him. You’d have to earn his friendship first if you want him to believe your compliments.”

“Why the hell does he think I hate him?” Keith threw up his hands. “He started the stupid rivalry stuff before we even met! I’m trying to  _ help _ , why can’t he see that?!” 

Hunk winced as he turned toward the ceiling. “Maybe hate was too strong a word.” Gripping the back of the chair he let his body fall back, stretching his forearms. “I’m telling you this because we’re buds, and you were cool about me being obtuse about the whole half Galra thing. But, Lance is my best friend so if I find out you let it slip that I let this slip, I will hunt you down. Understand?” Hunk flipped upright to stare at him.

“Uh.” Keith frowned. “Yeah. Sure.” 

Hunk leveled him with a glare before it broke and crumbled into soft memories. “When you were gone, we were all kinda lost. I had my projects with Pidge, Shiro had his own issues, and Allura was caught up in the whole being a princess thing. But Lance?” Hunk slumped, head folded in his arms and spoke to the floor, “He just sat in his room in the dark playing video games by himself. It was hard to watch. I think he took it personally that you left.”

“Personally…? Why would he think that?”

Hunk shrugged. “That’s something you need to ask Lance, not me. Best friend,” he said pointing to himself, “I’m sworn to secrecy.”

Keith let out his breath, shoving his hands into his back pockets and scuffing his boot against the clinically clean floor. “That’s stupid. That has nothing at all to do with why I left. I didn’t  _ want  _ to leave, I just-“ As if he’d just caught himself giving away far more than he’d intended, Keith’s mouth snapped shut. “Anyway. It’s dumb. He has to learn to fight, blind or not, for the sake of the universe and he’s not even trying. It’s not like him...” 

Hunk eyed him for a little longer than was comfortable. “Just bud to bud, how do you feel about Lance?”

As if Keith were a deer and Hunk had suddenly grown headlights, the color drained from Keith’s face as he froze. “Wh...he’s...I mean, I care about all of you. You’re all the closest I have to a family.” 

Keith didn’t like the knowing smile that earned him.

“Don’t worry.” Hunk stood and clapped Keith over the shoulder, giving him a thumbs up. “I got you.”

~🔹~

What Hunk  _ got him _ was a dinner in the mess hall. A dinner consisting of himself, Hunk and Lance. Alone. Awkwardly and terrifyingly alone.

“Bon appetit, my dudes,” Hunk said as he placed the food in front of them both.

“...Thanks,” Keith said, because he should, and picked up one of the space forks from the table to prod at his dinner.

“Yeah, thanks Hunk. Your cooking is always the best,” Lance said, with a smile as he stabbed at a chunk of meat. 

Across from him, Lance picked at the roast. Or what Keith hoped was a roast. The shriveled animal at least smelled like meat even if it was slightly orange. The texture of it was...not. It was rubbery and crunched every other bite. Keith powered through, swallowing a small piece down.

He was half-glaring, half-staring at Hunk in exasperation. Of all the awkward things they could be doing right then, this had to be somewhere at the top of the list. 

They dwindled into silence for a moment until Hunk’s chair scraped against the floor and he stretched. “Well, enjoy you two. I need to help Pidge do a...um... thing. Yeah a thing. But feel free to take your time. And  _ talk. _ ” With that, Hunk left. 

Lance coughed.

Keith scraped his plate, tapping the side of it nervously. 

“Can you not tap the plate? It’s really annoying,” Lance said, putting the fork down.

Keith stopped tapping. Instead, his chair hummed as he pushed back from the table and stood. “This is stupid.” 

“It’s okay if you don’t want to eat with me, but you should at least respect Hunk’s hard work.” Lance glared. 

“ _ You  _ don’t want to eat with  _ me _ ,” Keith shot back, far more petulant than he usually was. In fact, he almost sounded more like Lance than himself. “This is just Hunk trying to force a bonding moment and we all know how that ends.” 

“Yeah, well, I’m not the one walking away.  _ Again. _ ” Lance curled in on himself, shoulders slouching. “And Hunk is pretty nosey, but he means well. 

There was a beat of silence. Then Lance’s chair was being pulled away from the table. Keith pushed the dishes away and took their place. They clattered against each other as he settled on the table facing Lance. 

“Tell me why I left,” Keith said, dead serious. “You think you know? So tell me.” 

Lance mouthed words, opening and closing without sound. His fingers gripped the seat of his chair and he kept his eyes trained down. “You…” he started slowly, unsure what was even happening. “You left to join the Blade.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Keith scoffed. “Tell me  _ why _ .”

"Why?" Lance looked up at Keith, his eyes moving back as they tried to focus. "Because you're half Galra. They're like, your family." 

“No.” Keith’s voice was sharp, allowing no room for argument. “I told Hunk the same and I’m only saying it once. The Blades can help me find my mom, and that’s important to me, but everyone on this ship is my family. Plus, I’m...I can be useful with the Blades. But that’s still not why I left.” 

Lance sat there staring. Keith shifted under his unfocused gaze. It was really unnerving. Pidge was at least partly correct, Lance definitely looked like he could see. Blind or not, the pressure of his gaze weighted heavily on Keith’s shoulders. 

"The Blade doesn't need you like we do, but I think I get it,” Lance whispered. 

“ _ No  _ you  _ don’t _ !” The whole dining hall echoed with Keith’s outburst. He drew in a few ragged breaths before biting out, “What was the last conversation we had before I left? Just you and me?” 

Lance shook his head, face pinched.

“Then until you figure out the right answer, you train. Because there is a lot of shit you think you know for sure that you just don’t, and the idea that you can’t fight anymore is one of them. Five AM. Sharp.” 

Lance practically growled. "Five?! That's way too early! I don't wake up before eight unless it's an emergency. C'mon, that's not fair." 

“If things were fair then we wouldn’t be fighting an intergalactic war.”

Lance glared as he stood and held out his hands. 

What? What did that even mean? Keith wasn’t sure what to do. He glanced from the open palms to Lance’s face, trying to figure out the connection between fairness and hands. He shoved down the voice that told him to take them in his and lace their fingers together.

Lance cleared his throat, shoving his hands at Keith. "If you didn't sit on my dinner, then I'd like it. Please." 

Oh, right. Of course Lance wouldn’t want comfort from him. Keith slid from the table. Schooling his voice he held tight to the plate, not quite handing it over. “Gotta make up for the time you wasted with whining. See you in the morning.” 

They stared at each other for a breath. Then Lance nodded, slightly, but it was enough. Keith let go and grabbed his own plate.

With a whoosh of the space door, Keith was gone.

It was probably a good thing Lance couldn’t taste the food after that. He hadn’t really enjoyed the strange crunchy meat. Lance chewed mindlessly as he replayed the whole conversation. 

_ Ha _ , Lance thought bitterly. How dare Keith ask him why he left. Obviously because he-  _ they _ weren’t good enough for him.

It was a stupid question.

~🔹~

6:30 AM

Lance yawned as the training room door opened. “Hey, sorry I’m late.” He was still dressed in his robe with his workout clothes over his shoulder. 

Immediately, his arm was twisted behind his back and swift kick to his knees sent him buckling to the ground. 

“If you won’t take this seriously, I have no reason to hold back.” Keith’s voice by his ear was low and angry, the breath of it hot with exertion. Lance could feel the humid warmth of his sweaty skin hovering just beside his cheek. 

“Fuck, Keith. What the hell, man?” Lance tried to pull away, heart pounding in his chest. That was more than terrifying. Being ambushed in a war zone was one thing, but being ambushed out of nowhere? When he thought he was safe? The rollercoaster that put him on was making him shake. He wanted to punch Keith just so the fear had some kind of outlet. So he did. Kinda. He flailed a fist behind him, trying to make contact. “That wasn’t cool.”

Keith caught it easily. 

“Rule number one? You swore to give this your all. That means showing up on time and being focused. Rule number two? You’re going to have to start using the rest of your senses if you want to make progress. That means really trying to isolate the clues around you with the tools you still have.”

With that, even the bleary shapes left to Lance were taken away as Keith tied a blindfold to his head. 

"Keith you do realize I can't see right? What's the point of blindfolding me?" 

“Because you’re still trying to use your eyes. I can see you squinting. So I’m taking all that away, and now you’ll have to use your other perfectly functional senses.”

Lance pouted. He had agreed to do his best but that didn’t mean he had to like it. "Fine. We'll try your little game. But I'm going to go change first. I can’t train in my robe." He stood, gripping his clothes and stomped off to the small shower room. 

He was back a few minutes later and wearing the black training suit, blindfold hanging around his neck. "I know you're not going to believe me, but I did it on accident." He fingered the cloth. "Can you re-tie it?" 

Keith actually huffed out a soft laugh and soon his fingers were brushing against Lance’s cheeks as he tied the blindfold snug against Lance’s face once more. “Whatever you say. You good?”

His time to cool off as he got dressed was allowing guilt to creep up. There was no way Lance was going to let that sit right before he had to fight the dude. "Yeah, and I'm sorry about this morning. I won't be late tomorrow." 

“Good.” There was shuffling, and then two loud thunks. “I took my boots off. I’m just going to walk the deck for a bit with my shield up, and I want you to try and shoot it.”

Okay, this he'd done before. Normally they wore the blinder helmets, but without his sight the blindfold was just as dampening. 

Summoning his blaster, he took a deep breath as he hooked it into his shoulder. Keith was quiet without his boots, but his socks still slipped roughly against the floor. 

There. 

The blast hit, sparking against Keith's shield with a crackle. Lance smirked.

“Nice one,” Keith offered up. “Keep going.” 

He tried again, slow, listening, waiting. _ Hit.  _

It wasn't too hard; his body knew what to do and Keith was around his height. The shield was so large that he didn't have to aim other than straight ahead. 

_ Hit.  _

This wasn’t bad at all.

“Alright. Ready for me to go faster?” 

No. Lance had spoken too soon. Not that he was going to let Keith know. “If you think you can dodge, be my guest.”

Keith was clearly making an effort to disguise his footsteps, but he was still a compact dude made out of muscle so the impact was not quiet when he ran. He also was being a shit and pulling off some fancy acrobatics, since Lance could hear him to the left before hearing him again a split second later several feet away. 

Normally, Lance would gauge the trajectory of his target, line up the shot with the movement, and have them hit together. Without being able to see Keith’s micromovements that gave away his course, it was impossible. 

He set off several shots in a row that sizzled dully on the wall. He tried shooting up and down and a little left or a little right. Each one slammed against the wall and fizzled out. 

One ricocheted off the edge of Keith’s shield but by the time Lance heard it connect, Keith was no longer there. The footsteps fell a few feet ahead with a grunt. 

He’d rolled, the bastard. 

Frustration built up inside him like tiny balls piling on top of each other. Miss; new ball. Graze, new ball. Until he was almost choking on them and his stomach was in knots. “Just hold still!”

There was another thump directly behind him before Keith had his wrist in a tight hold. “Calm down. Don’t make me say the Shiro thing,” he said in Lance’s ear. 

“I can’t calm down if you’re jumping all over the place. How am I even supposed to do this, huh?” Lance spun and this time successfully ripped his wrist from Keith’s grip. “You’re like a monkey jumping around and by the time I hear you you’re already gone.”

“You’re not gonna get it 100% the first time you do it, Lance, and that’s fine. That’s why it’s called ‘training.’ It’ll come to you.”

"Have you ever heard of a blind sharpshooter?" 

“First time for everything,” Keith said with more patience than Lance might have expected he was capable of. Which made everything ten times more infuriating. “Win us this war blind and then everyone will have heard of one.” 

"I've never been good at being first," Lance muttered. He sighed, resigned to his fate. "Okay, one more time." 

Keith resumed his dodging and rolling as Lance resumed missing. He tried the thing where he begged his bayard to guide him. Nothing. Not a single zap down his arms. 

After twenty minutes of missing Lance called time out. 

A water pouch bumped his hand until Lance took it. There was a soft  _ whumpf _ as Keith landed next to him, panting. “You’ve been following me really well.” 

"Pidge could follow you. It's hitting you that is the point." Lance felt around the pouch and found the straw. It took a few tries but he got the straw in the pouch without help. 

“That was a double insult to me  _ and  _ Pidge.” A pop and slurp indicated that Keith had downed about half of his bag in one go. “And I’m serious. Why are you so dead set on being perfect at the first go?” 

"Not perfect, just where I used to be." Lance pulled the blindfold down, the sweat on it itching his skin. 

“You’ll get there. You’ve got all the instincts.” 

"Sure." Not once. Not even once had Keith risen to any of his jabs or sent any of his own. He tried again, "I’m making progress even with  _ you _ training me.”

“Yeah, you are.” 

It wasn't his imagination. Where was Keith's fire? If only he could see his face. He was probably looking at him with pity in his eyes as he silently felt sorry for him. It was the only explanation for the sudden switch in personality. 

Lance leaned forward, cocking his head. "Hours of training and I'm still complete shit, though." 

Keith sucked his water pouch dry and crinkled it up. “You’re gonna have to trust that I’ll have some interesting bruises from trying to dodge those shots. Progress is progress.” 

"Right." Lance sat back. "Look, I'm fine. I'm dealing, okay?" 

“Uh. Okay…?” Keith sounded confused. Hesitant. “I know you are. That’s why I-"

"I know. I get it. You don't have to explain." Lance turned away. "I can hear it in your voice."

“Wh...Hear  _ what  _ in my voice? Lance, I was trying to give you a compliment.” 

"That's exactly the problem!" Standing, he threw the pouch down. "Thanks for the training, I look forward to shooting you tomorrow." 

He stormed out, leaving his robe. There was no way he was going back to the changing room only to have to pass Keith again. No, this was his dramatic exit. 

Lance stomped down the hall, hand sliding on the wall and counting the gaps. 

If he had to listen to how  _ good _ he was doing and how much _ progress  _ he was making with that strange tone of  _ niceness _ one more time he might explode. 

There was no sound to follow him out, socked feet or otherwise. 

~🔹~ 

It wasn’t the door opening that startled Hunk into dropping his tools. The thing about spaceships was that all the doors opened and closed at the same speed, with the same whooshing sound, no matter what. What startled him was the outraged yelling that came immediately after that initial, unobtrusive  _ whssh _ .

“It didn’t work!” Keith snarled, looking like he could melt the floor with the heat of his gaze if he wanted. “You said to compliment him, so I DID, and he STORMED OFF ANYWAY! I was BEING  _ NICE _ !”

Hunk lifted his welding goggles as he abandoned the circuit board he was soldering. "Hello to you too, Keith." Calmly picking up his tools, he nodded to the couch Pidge dragged in to program on. "Why don't you sit down and talk like I'm actually only two feet away." 

Keith practically threw himself into the couch, immediately leaning forward to spread his arms wide, as if to show that he was, indeed, sitting down. “It didn’t work,” he repeated at a slightly more tolerable and less aggressive volume. 

"I don't understand…" Hunk swept a hand through his hair as he took off his goggles, fixing his messy hair in one swoop "It's not like he doesn't…" He shook his head. "What happened?" ”

Keith recounted their training session - how Lance had done a remarkably good job at keeping up and always narrowly missed him, enough that Keith had to push himself to make it a challenge that Lance wouldn’t find insulting. 

“He did really well, Hunk. And I told him. I made sure to tell him. Then he freaked out. Told me he was ‘doing fine’ and dealing and he could hear something in my voice. Then, Hunk, then he said he’d look forward to shooting me, and left.” 

Hunk whistle low. "That sounds rough, buddy." He sat back looking up at his thoughts. "I don't really know why he was that upset. But, there are days when I visit him and he's not, what's a good way to put it,  _ himself _ , I guess." 

Hunk moved to the couch and rested a heavy hand on Keith’s shoulder. "He shouldn't have said he was going to look forward to shooting you." 

“Uh.” Keith didn’t know what to do with that, so he asked the obvious. “What do I do now? He doesn’t want this. No one can force him. Maybe this was a bad idea. He should train with someone else.” 

Hunk laughed and squeezed Keith’s shoulder before letting go. "Well, I can’t, I'm too soft. There’s no way he’d ever listen to Pidge. And I know you love the guy, but Shiro hasn't been himself recently. Plus, you've been the red paladin. You're the most qualified in all aspects." 

“I’ve never been  _ blind _ !” Keith protested, carding a hand through his sweaty hair and making a face when it got tangled and stuck. He yanked it through in frustration before standing abruptly and pacing. “I’m completely making this up as I go and I’m only making things worse.” 

"You're not making it worse," Hunk said in the same voice he used when Lance was being overdramatic. "None of us have ever been blind. But Lance doesn't need someone who's  _ been blind _ , he needs someone to help him see that he's not broken. Excuse my phrasing." 

Growling impatiently as he glared at his own feet, Keith mumbled, “I don’t know how.” 

Hunk bit his lip, looking between Keith and his hands. 

"Remember when you first took over the Black Lion?" 

Keith gave him a flat look, which Hunk ignored. 

"You were so obsessed with Lotor that you put yourself and the team in danger. Wait, I have a point," he said, holding up his hand at Keith’s beginning protests. 

Keith crossed his arms, but let Hunk go on.

"Sometimes we get so fixated on things that we don't realize what we're doing is hurting us  _ and _ the people we care about. When that happened to you, Lance was there, pulling you back. Now he needs you to return the favor." 

Keith’s gaze returned to the floor, but he eventually relented, sagging with the breath he let out. “I...am definitely going to try.” 

"So about our last talk. Do you want to tell me how you feel about Lance, yet?" 

“What?” Keith whirled on him, frowning deeply. “What do you...he’s...my teammate? I...well, I would have maybe counted us as friends before I left but...”

“Poor Lance.” Hunk gave him a sad smile. “I hope you guys can get through this.”

“Not...being friends?” Keith’s face scrunched in confusion.

Hunk scratched his chin, not looking Keith in the eye. “You know, when me n’Lance fight I always bring him some food and talk it out. He usually doesn’t realize he’s been an ass. Why don’t you give him one more chance? Ask him why he was so upset about your compliments.”

“I doubt he’d be too thrilled to see me, even if I did show up with food goo.” 

“Don’t be me, be yourself. You guys fought all the time. What did you do back then to make up?”

“Beat each other up in the training room!” Keith threw up his hands. “Which is exactly what he ran from!” Frustrated and drained, Keith stood and headed for the door. “I’ll go talk to him. He can’t be  _ more  _ annoyed with me.” 

“That’s the spirit.”

Keith’s wrist blinked and buzzed. He glanced down at it and amended, “After I take this I guess. Thanks, Hunk. Really.”

~🔹~

Lance stuffed the last piece of clothing into his suitcase. That was his clothes, a few of the unbroken keepsakes, a present for his mom and siblings, and his pictures. He’d almost left the pictures, even now he wasn’t sure why he’d packed them. They were nothing but blank paper to him now. Snapping the lid closed, he paused. That snap sounded off. 

It almost sounded like a knock. Lance turned to his door. “Hunk?” 

“Keith,” came the muffled, hesitant reply from behind the door. “Can I, uh...come in?” 

"Oh. Uh, hold on." He shoved the suitcase under his bed and sat in front of it. "Come in." 

The door whooshed open and Keith’s footsteps stopped a few feet in front of him, then scuffed awkwardly. “Um...Hey.”

“Hey.”

“What are you doing on the floor?”

“Sitting. It’s my floor. I’m allowed to sit on my own floor, aren’t I?” Lance shifted, pushing the suitcase further under the bed as he lifted himself up to the mattress. “What are you doing in my room?”

“I...guess I came to apologize. And talk. Can I sit?”

Lance sighed, deep and heavy. “Yeah,” he said, motioning to the space next to him. “You don’t have to, though. Apologize, I mean. You can sit, obviously.”

Keith sank down beside him, close enough to jostle his shoulder as he adjusted and got comfortable. The silence stretched long enough to start feeling unnerving before Keith blurted, “I didn’t mean to make you mad. I was trying to be encouraging, but that probably feels worse when you’re frustrated. So. I’m sorry. But you really were doing a good job. I had to work my ass off to keep out of your way.”

That was...a lot all at once. Lance blinked, listening to the sheets scrap against the mattress as he shifted. At least he could admit that he overreacted just a little. And it didn’t matter now anyway.

“You didn’t make me mad.” Well, that wasn’t quite true. “Okay, no. I was mad, but it’s fine.” He swung his leg against the side of the bed, letting his foot slide in and out of the hole where his suitcase stayed hidden. With Keith so close it was hard to ignore the smell of Altean soap with its citrus tang that clung to Keith. “I get it. I’m pretty pitiful like this.” 

“Is that what you think I think? I was being nice because I pity you?” 

“It's not hard to figure out. You’ve never been good at hiding your emotions, Keith.” Lance rolled his hand nonchalantly. “I told you I can hear it in your voice. The way you talk softer and more careful. Even when I tried to get a rise out of you, you just got  _ nicer. _ It was weird. It still is.”

“Wait.” Keith sucked in a breath, a new edge to his voice. “You...really? I can’t be nice without it being suspicious? First you told me I didn’t think anything was good enough, and then when I try to tell you that’s not true, you say it’s just pity. No wonder this stupid rivalry thing is still going on in your head!”

_ Owch. _

It had never been a  _ stupid rivalry _ to him. It was more than that. It was his everything; how he pushed himself and strove to be better. It was the whole reason he was  _ here _ in space fighting an intergalactic war. 

But to Keith, he was always an annoyance. 

Lance fisted the sheets, feeling the slick fabric under his nails. “I’m not your right hand anymore, so that’s all I have. You think you can leave and come back all you want and we’ll just welcome you with open arms. That I’ll ignore the fact that you abandoned me and go back to being friends? Because that’s not how friendship works, Keith!” Lance found himself leaning over, breathing heavily in Keith’s face. He blinked and pulled back, but his voice was no less cutting when he added, “You didn’t even talk to me about it.”

Keith seemed to have been startled into silence. When he found his voice, it was much smaller. “About...leaving for the Blades?”

Lance let go of the sheets to squeeze his hands together, running one thumb over the other. “It doesn’t matter. You won’t have to worry about this anymore.”

“It does matter,” Keith said, soft and intimately quiet. “That you feel like I abandoned you. That was never my intention. At all.”

“You can’t control my feelings. I told you it’s fine.” He cut off the conversation with a swipe of his hand. “Look, I’m sorry that I got mad and stormed out when you were only trying to help me. In the back of my head, I know that’s what you were trying to do. But in all the years I’ve known you, you’ve never backed down from any of my jabs.”

“You’re right.” Keith repositioned himself, boots squeaking against the floor. “But I’ve also never lied to you. I know you can handle this, Lance, whether you think you can or not. So if being hard on you wasn’t working, then I wanted to tell you the truth.” 

The truth. It didn’t feel like the truth. Not when there was such a gap of shattered trust between them. Lance kicked his foot again, hitting the suitcase with his heel. “Don’t worry about it. You’ll get to go back to the Blade soon and this will all be over.”

He could hear Keith’s sigh, and this time it just sounded defeated. “Lance...don’t go.” 

“What?” Since when were they talking about him leaving?

“Your stuff is missing from the dresser and I can see the suitcase from down here.”

Caught. Lance swallowed his fear and glared at the Keith-blob. “You can’t stop me.” 

Keith shrugged. “You’re right. I can’t. But I’m  _ asking _ you not to go. We can put training on pause, but listen - I put out inquiries with the Blade as soon as you were out of the pod and they finally turned up something. There’s a defector, a druid, who could take a look at you. So I’m not just here to apologize. I also came to ask you to come with me.” 

Lance paused, letting his eyes drift to the ceiling lights. It was becoming an addiction; light seemed to soothe his mind. “They could cure me?” 

“I don’t know,” Keith said honestly. “But it’s worth a shot, right?” 

“Maybe.” He wanted to go home and hug his mother. He wanted out of this war. He wanted his eyes back. Lance stood up, tearing away from the light to stare down at Keith. He crossed his arms. “Even if I get my eyesight back, I still might leave. I can’t promise anything.” 

“I wouldn’t ask you to,” Keith said, and it sounded just...sad. “I know how much you want to see Earth again. But for what it’s worth, I’m not just blowing smoke out of my ass when I say the team needs you.  _ I  _ need you. No one else questions me, and every time you have, it’s always been the right call.” 

A pang squeezed Lance’s heart. He wanted to believe those words. Maybe for just a little while he would let himself believe. “Okay. I’ll stay and I’ll go with you to see the druid.” Lance held out his hand. It felt like they were making some kind of deal, though it hadn’t been explicitly stated. Still, he felt like he needed the reassurance that it  _ was  _ a deal. 

Keith did shake his hand, and before he could think better of it, pulled him in for a quick, gruff hug. It was awkward, but not stiff, and Keith backed away afterwards as if he’d committed some crime. “Great. Okay. Good. Thanks, Lance.” 

That was unexpected. Lance blinked owlishly at Keith. “Yeah. Thanks.” He snorted, “Guess I’m all packed to leave for whenever we’re going.” 

Keith huffed out a little embarrassed laugh as he shuffled backward. “Yeah...first thing in the morning. I’ll meet you on the flight deck?” 

“Flight deck. In the morning. Got it. See ya’ there, Leader.” Lance shot Keith finger guns and waited for the sound of his doors to shut. 

This time Keith’s chuckle was genuine. “Night, Lance.” 

Lance flopped back on his bed. This was going to be a long trip. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone being patient with the uploading of this fic <3 I really love how much klance is in this chapter and I'm excited for more klance falling in love uwu
> 
> I'm also on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/SailUnchartd) and I'm actively posting on my pseudo: [SailUnchartedWaters](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlassAlice/pseuds/SailUnchartedWaters)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sup, i'm on twitter and hang out there lots writing dumb shit [SailUncharted](https://twitter.com/SailUnchartd)

~🔹~

The alarm went off nice and early. Lance was determined to make it down to the flight deck by himself. His morning routine was getting easier, but he'd carelessly left his toothbrush somewhere on the counter instead of the holder. It clacked against the floor when he finally found it by knocking it onto the ground. Gross. Other than that little stumble, he was washed, brushed, and dressed in under an hour. 

He felt his way down the long hallways, following the mental map in his head. Visuals of his mind’s eye were starting to fade away. Ghosts of what they used to be. His memory and mental layout were all shifting to something new and a little uncomfortable. 

The passageways and rooms were fuzzy copies of themselves. Some of the lesser-used areas of the castle were complete blanks. It was like he'd lost the visual part of his mind's eye along with his sight. Instead, the once pictures were replaced by stronger sensations like sounds, smells, and touches. 

The familiar beep of the huge deck doors sliding open told Lance he’d made it. Grinning, he stepped inside. 

Keith was already present, and from the sound of it, so were Shiro and Allura. Their conversation was low, but it didn’t sound particularly pleased. 

The air was so tense it was like stepping into fog. Lance could feel its weight on his skin. It was times like these he really wished he could see people’s expressions. Then at least he’d know if he was the cause of all the tension or not.

“Morning, Lance,” Keith called out from the huddled blob of people. “You ready?” 

“Uh,” He looked back and forth between the figures but they blended into one lumpy shadow. He settled for looking up to Red who sat poised in her bay. That should come off natural. He didn’t want to answer the wrong person. “Yeah, how are we going? Pod?” 

“You’ll be going in Red,” Shiro answered. “With Keith piloting.” 

Lance jerked his head to stare at the group. He was half sure Shiro was in the middle by the sound of his voice, but there was a disorienting echo in the hanger. 

"Keith? But…" In all fairness, Lance should be able to pilot Red with their link. It wasn’t like they all hadn’t flown blind before. It was literally one of the first things they learned together. Still, back then he had his sight if he needed it… so maybe it was safer to have Keith do it. That didn’t mean he had to like it.

“Yes, Keith,” Shiro reaffirmed. “And we’ll expect an update from you tonight.” 

“Be mindful.” Allura’s voice was pinched with worry. “Even with the Blade of Marmora, a Galra Druid is to be treated with suspicion at all times.” 

Shiro and Allura’s words cut into his chest. They didn’t trust him. And why should they? He hadn’t done anything to prove them wrong. For weeks all he’d done was sulk.

“We will be.” Keith’s footsteps were heavier than normal, so either he was stomping in anger or he was doing it on purpose so that Lance wouldn’t be startled by the hand landing on his shoulder. “Let’s go.” 

Nodding, Lance followed Keith up to Red who opened her mouth. Red greeted him with a soft purr and Lance revelled in the welcome. It was his first time back inside his lion and he should’ve been buzzing with excitement. Instead, it felt horrible.  _ Keith _ was going to pilot.

It was just another reminder that this wasn't really his lion and he wasn't really needed. 

Keith dumped his bag into the storage compartment in the back of Red’s cockpit and then did the same for Lance’s, buckling himself into the spare chair that folded down from the wall. “Alright, let’s go.” 

Cocking his head, Lance quirked an eyebrow. “You’re in the wrong spot.” He patted the pilot chair. “I’m the blind one and even I know you're supposed to sit here.” 

“I’m not piloting,” Keith said. “You are.” 

“No. Nope, no, no, no, no. Shiro said you were flying. Those were orders.” 

“Well, Shiro was wrong. Leaders don’t always make the right call, as you’ve noticed.” 

Lance snapped his mouth shut and pulled out his phone. 

"Camera," the phone said, its robotic voice making the cadence seem off. Lance pressed the same spot again and a bright light flashed with a loud click. "Text picture." Oh yeah, he was getting pretty good at this.

"Allura, Coran, Hunk, Mullet, Pidge," it read as he pulled his finger down the screen. Stopping on Pidge, he hit send. 

“What was that for?” Keith asked, a little baffled. 

Lance's phone piped up, " _ Voice text from Pidge: Why are you sending me blurry pictures of Keith?"  _

He put his phone away. "I thought you might be an imposter. Our Keith? Saying Shiro was wrong? I had to make sure you weren't replaced by a voice double." 

Keith snorted. “Funny. But he’s been wrong about a lot of things lately and it was definitely wrong to undermine your bond with Red. She is your lion, not mine. You can fly her - I know you both.” 

Lance hesitated. 

Keith was right, Red was his lion. He could do this. Lance sat down and buckled in without thinking too hard about it. He hoped he didn’t look as nervous as he felt. 

“Hurry up, let’s go.”

Lance sat down with a sigh. Fuck, Shiro was going to kill them if he found out.

Then again, how would he find out? The biggest tattletale would’ve been Keith and Keith would be in just as much trouble if he told.

The thought settled Lance’s stomach as he gripped the controls. It was second nature and as soon as he touched them his mind filled with Red. He could see the way the lion saw. It’d been so long since he had any form of visual input outside of bright light. It was  _ exhilarating _ . 

"Everything alright in there?" Shiro asked through the coms. 

It was now or never. Lance smirked and pulled back on the handles. 

Red roared at the same time Lance whooped, together after so long. They sped through the bay doors and out into open space. Lance was giddy, or maybe Red was giddy, it was hard to tell. He did a few loops before throwing Red into high speed. 

Keith was less than thrilled with the number of barrel rolls, one hand clinging to the adjacent handle. But. Lance was  _ happy _ . 

It’d been so long since he was really and truly happy in any capacity.

The sound of his joy had been everywhere in the castle in the old days, and to hear it sound so foreign now was truly disheartening. 

“Keith don’t go overboard with the antics,” Shiro’s voice crackled. 

Keith reached over and shut off the comms. “Alright,” he said with clear amusement. “Just hold this course for a while...even if it’s a little, uh, squiggly.” 

Lance smirked. "Squiggly? This is expert flying. I was number one after you left." There was no reason to mention the times he showed off and blew his high score or the fact that he’d never be able to pilot anything besides the lions ever again.

“Seems like you were a lot of things after I got kicked out.”

Lance wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he just shrugged. There was too much going on, too much to  _ see _ to care about Keith’s emo-ness.

They were about to pass the asteroid belt that hid the castle and Lance could feel Red egging him on. "You know what they used to call me?" Red dipped and jumped off an asteroid, hurling for two that were about to collide. 

“Was it Lance?”

"The tailor," Lance laughed, pushing Red faster. 

Keith grabbed his chair, longing for the controls in his own hands. “Lance,” he warned. “Lance the asteroids!”

The giant rocks crashed together, shaking the ship as Red sped through. "Because of how I thread the needle." 

Meanwhile, Keith was sweating. Impressed, though he’d keep that to himself for now, but definitely also sweating. Debris pelted them as they flew away and dodged a few more space rocks. “No one - oof - ever called you that.” 

"How do you know?" Red slowed to a more normal speed as they exited the field. The high from take off ebbed and Lance's smile fell with it. "You were gone." 

“I told you I remembered you when we rescued Shiro,” Keith insisted, annoyed. “I always thought you were h-“ He cut off abruptly in a panic. "More talented than they gave you credit for, if they’d ever actually get off your back and let you try.” 

Lance had no idea what to say to that. Keith _ ,  _ emo, hotheaded, ready to butt heads with Lance at every turn,  _ Keith _ , was giving him a compliment. It short circuited his brain.  _ Say something _ ,  _ anything,  _ Lance demanded of himself. "Your high score was still there when we left. I never did beat it."  _ Not that.  _

_ Crow and cheese, why did he say that?  _

Keith shrugged before remembering that Lance couldn’t see it even if his vision hadn’t been impaired. “Maybe you have now that you’re the Red Paladin. Red’s the fastest of them all, right?” He looked up at the ceiling. “What do you think, girl? Is Lance ‘the tailor’ Fuentes using you to your fullest potential?” The deep purr that made the cockpit shake had him laughing. 

“Hey, don’t talk to him. I’m your paladin now.” Lance couldn’t help but enjoy their banter. Red seemed overjoyed to have both of them with her and it was leaking into him. “Cheater.” 

He turned back to look at Keith again. “Stay away from Red. We’re very happy together.” 

“Uh-oh,” Keith teased. “Loverboy Lance feeling threatened? What happened to Ms. BlueLion?” 

Lance huffed. “ _ Shut up. _ ” He turned back around, not that he really needed to face any direction. Red was showing him the path to take so he could be flying with his eyes closed if he wanted. Ugh, he might as well be. “It’s Ms. RedLion now, isn’t that right, girl? Not going to abandon me like Blue, are you?” 

Red made a disgruntled noise that translated into a sniff. Apparently, the lions didn’t like to be compared to each other. “Fine,” Lance said, trying to cover up the strange hurt and hollow feeling in his chest. “I can get anyone I want. I was super popular on earth. Couldn’t keep them away if I wanted to.” 

“What a burden,” Keith said dryly, but he was smiling. 

Actually, now that Lance thought about it, he’d never seen Keith with anyone. Not that Keith was bad looking. Besides his mullet and sour personality, he was quite handsome. That should’ve at least earned him a few crushes. “What about you? Leave any sweethearts back on Earth?” 

Keith went quiet. “...No,” he said after a while. “I’ve only ever been on one date.” 

Red was sending weird cooing noises and Lance wasn’t sure why. “Oh? Who broke your heart? I bet they’re kicking themselves now that you’re literally saving the universe.” 

“I doubt it.” Keith leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes. “He called me the wrong name at least twice, so. Wasn’t anything to break.” 

“During sex?” Lance’s voice broke on the last word. He didn’t care; his mind was too busy stuck on the  _ he  _ and reeling at the idea that Keith wasn’t a virgin when Lance very much was. Keith had had sex, with a dude,  _ twice at least. _

Wait. Keith was queer. A little celebration went off in his head. Not that he had a chance. Keith’d made it very clear that Lance was barely a friend and little more than a teammate a long time ago. 

Red grumbled at him but he pushed her aside. Too much was happening without her commentary. 

“No,” Keith gave a derisive scoff. “Never made it that far. Just outside the Garrison to get pizza and he  _ still  _ called me the wrong name.” He lifted his head and looked at the back of Lance’s. “So let’s get it over with: get all your teasing about me being a virgin out now cuz it’s the only chance I’m giving you.” 

“Oh.” Lance blushed up to his hairline. He swallowed, keeping his gaze fixed forward. “That would be pretty hypocritical of me.” 

“Oh,” Keith paused and then chuckled. “I won’t tell if you won’t.” 

"Deal." Lance sat back in his chair. Thought for a moment, then decided to go for it. There was probably only one guy that was gay and jerk enough to have done that. "I hope it wasn't Jaime, that guy was a jackass." 

“Yes it was. And yes, he was. Not like I had a ton of options. The pool of people willing to speak to me was small, and the chance of them also being gay was even smaller.” 

"The pool was pretty small, talking or not." 

“Of people to date or other gay people specifically?” Keith frowned at the pilot’s chair. 

Lance shrugged, trying to stay nonchalant. If Keith could casually drop his sexuality, the least Lance could do was let him know that he was in safe company. "Well, both, but I was talking about the gay and bi pool at the Garrison." His hands slipped on the handles and he rubbed the sweat off on his jeans as casually as he could. He pushed Red a little faster than was necessary as he waited for a reaction from Keith. 

“Oh,” Keith hummed in agreement. Nearly thirty seconds went by before he gave a surprised “Oh!” Then another thirty seconds for a thoughtful “ _ Oh _ . But I thought you…just  _ so many _ ...” He trailed off, too shy to finish his thought. 

The whole time Keith was musing, Lance was sweating. Why was telling Keith his sexuality in the privacy of space so scary? He fanned his shirt, hoping Red’s cockpit was warm enough that Keith wouldn’t find it odd. "That I  _ what _ ? So many what? I'm not following." 

“You hit on so many girls. Like,  _ only  _ girls, and basically all they needed was a pulse.” Keith looked down at his shoes. “I uh...just never would have guessed.” 

"I mean, have you seen girls? They're really hot." Lance took a moment to get his thoughts together. "And it's easier than the teasing. People already called me a slut and then add bi on top? No thanks. It wasn't until I told Hunk that I got braver. But by then you’d already left and then the war...so, there wasn’t any time- Well, I didn't do much of anything about it." Lance let out a self deprecating chuckle. "Maybe you're right. All I did was hit on girls." 

Keith’s head snapped up. “What does my leaving have to do with that?” he asked, sounding strangely urgent. 

Lance blushed. "Nothing! I mean you weren't there, at the garrison. There wasn't time with the war. Only Hunk knew, okay? I--" Red growled a warning. "I think we're here." 

Keith unbuckled himself and stood, coming over to where Lance was seated to look out at the small wooded moon that served as a safe haven for Galra defectors. “Good job - early too. Set us down by that second base. That’s where our liaison will be.” 

It was nice that flying was still second nature to Lance. He would've normally lost ability along with his eyes if it weren't for Red.  _ Small miracles and alien tech, _ he thought. 

Red preened at the compliment. 

It was warm and familiar in a way that he’d been missing. When they land it’d all be over and soon, Lance realized, he'd lose her sight. 

Red landed gently next to the base, but he didn't make a move to leave. 

Keith finished buckling his utility belt and tucking his Galra blade into its sheath. “Alright, listen - I know you’re a people person or whatever, but in this case, just let me do the talking. These guys are a little rough around the edges. You ready?” 

“You know, on second thought, why don’t you go without me? You’re Galra, they’re Galra. I’m just going to get in the way.” He patted the controls. “I’ll stay here with Red and keep her company while you’re gone.” 

“Um.” Keith frowned. “We’re...here for you. So you can see the druid? Remember?” 

"Yeah…" But losing this after he’d just gotten it back, even if it wasn’t exactly the same as seeing, was too much too soon. “I’m sure you can handle it. You’re Keith, hero of the universe, Blade Master or whatever. You don’t need me.”

“That’s not true,” Keith said, rough and almost strangled. It was...weird to hear Keith sound like that, so small.

“What do you mean?” Lance asked, unbuckling and stealing himself to lose his sight again.

Unfortunately Keith didn’t answer him. “C’mon, let’s get this over with,” he growled instead.

Lance took a deep breath and tried to relax, that was his normal Keith. 

Closing his eyes, he held the view from Red in his mind and refused to let it go. "Fine. Okay. Let's go." He got up and turned to Keith. 

The world spun as nausea burned his throat and his head seemed to float from his body. That was a rush and very disorenting. He could see the moon’s forest from Red’s perspective as if it were in front of him. His body reeled when the imaged didn’t move with him. The whole thing made his brain spin. 

Gripping the wall and swaying Lance willed his body to function despite the visuals. 

“You okay?” Keith asked, a light hand brushing Lance’s shoulder before pulling away.

It was still weird, but he could do this. Lance nodded and had to push down another wave of nausea. "Lead the way," he said, swallowing down the burn. 

Red opened her mouth and they descended down to the moon's surface. As soon as Lance stepped off, her mouth shut and the barrier went up around her. Lance whimpered under his breath as his mind's eye was cut off with it. 

Acting on pure instinct, Keith’s hand flew to Lance’s elbow, to reassure or guide or steady him. Lance couldn’t guess which even if he was offered a billion GAC. 

“Twenty feet ahead and a little to the left. That’s the base. There will probably be four or five guards and likely one of the higher ranking officers. My guess is Antok, who is huge and scary and never takes off his mask.” He spoke low as they walked, the artificial gravity holding them down more than it did on the Castle Ship. 

This was so embarrassing. Lance was being led around like a child. If he still had his sight, Keith would probably be shouting insults at him right now and laughing at him if he stumbled. 

Instead, he pointed out anything that might be in their way and even ran off to kick something large from their path at one point. All the while he chatted about the Blade members and what Lance should expect.

_ He’s just being nice, _ Lance’s brain argued. “Well, maybe, I just want it to be normal,” he grumbled back to himself. 

Keith paused mid-rant about Antok. “What, not taking off his mask?” Keith questioned, clearly confused. “Well, yeah, I mean, we would all prefer having an actual face-to-face conversation, but you don’t just say that to someone with meat tenderizers for hands.” 

“Yeah,” Lance agreed, voice squeaking. He didn’t mean to say that last bit out loud. Good thing Keith covered for him, even if it was unwittingly.. 

Keith’s ruminations on Antok’s peculiarities were halted as they reached the front door. Keith stepped forward; the warmth and safety he provided left with him. That was when Lance realized how cold the planet was. There wasn’t any crunch of snow under his boots or slippery ice, but it was cold enough that Lance had to wrap his arms around himself.. 

A dim flash of cool light was all Lance could make out. Before he could ask what was going on, he was interrupted by the click of a door opening. The light dimmed to a steady glow that Lance basked in. All color was lost, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t a white light. The white lights in the castle were always warmer in tone. Still, he was a moth to a flame, his entire body vibrating with the pleasure of being able to see  _ something _ . 

Apparently, visual input was an addiction he hadn’t known he had until he lost it.

Whatever had clicked wasn’t a door. Lance startled as the door actually opened with a loud  _ whoosh  _ of air pressure. 

The Galra marched out in a blurry clump. One of the blobs was decidedly larger and it stepped forward to tilt Lance’s chin up. Lance tried to pull away but the hand shifted to squeeze his chin and hold him in place. 

“This is the one?” said a deep, gravelly voice that definitely sounded like it was filtered through a mask. 

“‘This’ is named Lance, and you don’t need to manhandle him.” Keith batted Antok’s hand away. “Where is the druid?” 

“Third level, under high security. You are not to go unescorted.” 

Keith grunted, but seemed to give up without too much of a fight. “Fine. Take us there; we don’t need to be gone longer than necessary.” 

“Uh, can I?” Lance reached out for Keith, hoping it wasn’t weird to want to hold onto someone. 

Keith’s hand closed over his own without a word as he led them inside. 

That wasn’t what Lance had wanted or expected. Hunk always gave him his elbow, so for Keith to hold his hand instead? Lance held his breath as confused emotions poured over him.  _ Keith  _ was holding his hand. Sure, Lance was blind and couldn’t see and this was probably all formality but that didn’t change the fact that they were  _ holding hands _ .

Lance could let himself pretend they were holding hands for real. If they were, it probably would feel a lot like this, warm and giddy. His mind raced with possibilities. 

The Galra must not have been a people who favored art for art’s sake. The hallways were all very straight. When Keith would occasionally tug him around a turn, it was always a right angle that led to even more long, straight hallways. It seemed as if they had been walking forever when they finally set foot on a platform that shivered as it began to descend. Keith’s hand tightened. 

Okay, well that wasn’t quite like his fantasies. "Buddy." He shook off Keith's hand. "You're supposed to lead me, not break my hand." 

“Huh?” Keith sounded distracted. “Oh...sorry.” 

Lance massaged the abused muscles between his fingers. “Let me have your elbow. That’s how Hunk does it.” He smirked and wiggled his eyebrows. “Unless you wanted to hold hands the whole time.” Oh God, his mouth never shut up.

Lance could hear Keith actually spluttering, even as he nudged Lance with his elbow. “Not the time, Lance,” he hissed. 

He slipped his hand into the crook of Keith’s elbow and smiled. “Didn’t mean to embarrass you in front of your boys. We can hold hands on the way home instead.” Fuck him sideways. That’s not what he’d meant to say. But ever since their conversation in Red and Keith grabbing his hand, well- Of course that’s where his brain was.

There was relative silence until the platform came to a settled stop. Keith didn’t move as the other pairs of footsteps began to move down the next hallway. Before he did, Lance felt warm air at his ear and could practically  _ hear  _ Keith’s smirk in his voice. “Is that a promise?” 

Lance jumped and stared wide-eyed at Keith. His face burned. Putting a hand over his pounding heart, Lance shoved Keith with his shoulder. "Don't scare me like that, man." 

Keith was acting really weird. Okay to be fair, Lance was also acting weird or at least, Lance normally didn’t turn this side of his personality onto Keith or any guy for that matter. Of course it was normal for them to bicker. But, this? Even when Lance came close to toeing the line of flirting to test out the waters and see if it was okay, Keith never flirted back. 

"Are…" Lance cleared his throat, "Are we going?" 

There was a short huff of air and then Keith answered. “Yeah.” 

He led Lance for what seemed like forever in a straight line. Like the rest of the unimaginative Galra base, this section was also boringly geometric. Finally, they made it to where Antok and the others were waiting. 

“The druid is inside. You are both permitted to enter, and though we also recommend caution, they are still under our protection. You are not to touch or harm him in any way.” 

“Understood,” Keith agreed. Lance just nodded.

There was another whoosh as the door to the promised cell opened and the air equalized. 

Lance followed Keith’s lead. As they got closer, the magic staining his vision reacted. It was a strange feeling; not pain or pleasure, but a pressure that seemed to pull away and get tugged back. He let his arm fall from Keith’s and stepped forward. 

Now that he was here, he wasn’t really sure what to do. It wasn’t like he’d ever had to ask a Galra druid about going blind before. Heck, he’d never asked a Galra druid for  _ anything _ before. 

Lance decided it was best to go with his gut and be himself. Taking a breath he flashed a grin. “The name’s Lance. I was hoping you could help me out.” 

“Why would I help you?” The druid’s voice sounded like static; it hissed through the vowels and crackled across the consonants. 

“Because, you’re a nice guy now and want to prove you’re on Voltron’s side?” Lance said with hope in his voice. Keith elbowed him. Yeah, that line probably didn’t work. 

“I do not care for Voltron. I only wish to join the Blade.” 

Lance was pretty sure that was snark. Okay, rude. “Look.” He put his hands on his hips. “One of you bastards blinded me with your creepy ass magic and I need to know how to fix it. So either you’re going to help or I’m going to blindly start blasting you with my bayard.” 

“-he said, in a poorly-timed joke,” Keith slipped in. “Wherein no ill-will was meant. It’s a human thing.” Lance could sense him moving in front, probably trying to block him from view. And honestly, it was rude. He was  _ quite _ serious. 

“My name is Keith. I answer directly to Kolivan, leader of the Blade of Marmora. This is a personal favor for Kolivan, which, if need be, I can call to confirm right here in front of you. Though he does not take lightly to having his word questioned.” 

Oh, as if that was any better. They needed to hurry this up. “Stick your dagger in him where the sun don--” 

Keith slapped a hand over Lance’s mouth. 

“I don’t know what you want me to do. It wasn’t me who cast the spell on the Blue Paladin,” the druid said in that same staticy voice. 

“Red.” Lance corrected, pulling Keith’s hand down.   
  
“But, your armor...It matters not. I can’t control magic that isn’t my own.” 

“Can you at least try?” Keith asked, pushing Lance back a step and elbowing him. 

Lance crossed his arms. “This is stupid, he can’t do anything. He’s probably too weak.” 

The temperature in the room dropped and static crawled across his skin. It felt too similar to the magic that had stolen his sight. Lance’s stomach flopped and it took everything he had not to bolt for it.

To keep from running away, Lance realized he was clinging to Keith and took a step back. If there was some kind of danger Keith wouldn’t be standing there, taking it. Right? Fuck, Lance wished he could see what was happening. He wished he didn’t have to make that wish anymore. 

“What’s going…?” Warm light filled the room and the magic in his eyes pulsed. Lance stumbled back and held his face. Fireworks flashed behind his eyes as they started to burn. “Stop, please!” 

“You are  _ not to hurt him _ ,” Keith commanded with every ounce of leadership he could conjure up. 

“I told you my magic is incompatible.” The pressure lifted from Lance’s eyes at the druid’s words and the room grew dim again. “This was done by a high mage. It looks like Draktor’s work and she is more than a few levels above me. No common druid can cure your human friend.” 

Lance uncurled and groped for Keith’s arm again with shaking fingers. All of this was a bad idea. He tugged gently. “He’s not going to help us.”   
  
“As if I had the choice,” the druid spit. “Only Haggar herself could undo this and she’s mad. I suggest finding yourself a new  _ Red  _ Paladin.” 

Keith didn’t budge. “...What would it take to get Haggar to help us?” 

"Keith!" Lance couldn't believe what he was hearing. 

At the same time the druid laughed. It wasn't a pleasant sound. "Didn't you hear me? Haggar is  _ mad _ . She would sooner cook you into a stew and serve you to Zarkon than help Voltron. Give up, little one. He's better off like that." 

Fear coursed through Lance and the pain was still twitching through his face. He tugged on Keith's arm. "Let's just go. Please." 

Keith growled, low, deep, and animalistic. Lance had never heard that sound come from Keith before. He let go and shuffled backward. Boots hit the ground and metal scraped against metal. Keith hissed, “How  _ dare  _ you, you  _ fucking piece of _ -” 

“That’s enough!” Antok’s voice boomed near Lance and there was more scuffling. “Stand down, kit, you had your orders.” 

Then there was a hand roughly gripping Lance’s elbow and Keith grit out a tight, “Come on,” before dragging him out of the room and presumably back into the hallway. 

They trudged on in silence, Keith half dragging Lance most of the way. 

After a meter of walking down boring hallways, Keith's footsteps slowed to a more normal pace and his grip on Lance loosened. They'd taken so many turns that Lance was completely lost and it was terrifying in a way he'd never known. If Keith abandoned him here it would take him days, weeks, months to find his lion again. He might even get lost in the hideout forever. 

The words shook as they fell from his lips, "Where are we?” 

“Back door. There’s always another elevator for just the Blades in case we need to flank the entrance or something.” His voice was tense with fury. “We need to get off this moon before I change my mind and  _ disobey orders, _ ” he snapped, terse and irritated. 

“We’re not going to stay here?” The trembling in his voice traveled down his body and into his hands. “Our bags.” He clung to Keith like a lifeline. 

“I never took them off Red.” Keith paused and Lance stumbled into him. 

Lance expected Keith to get upset and maybe yell at him. Keith was very agitated and at this point anything could probably make him blow. Instead, Keith gripped Lance by the shoulders. 

It was firm, almost comforting. His hands were warm even though his gloves, and they squeezed the tense muscles in Lance’s shoulders. 

“So this druid wasn’t able to help. We’re not out of options. Maybe He’s right and the only choice is try to...I don’t know,  _ bargaining  _ with Haggar? Blackmail her? Or, or we’ll try to find something else, some other planet, something in the old libraries. Who trains the druids? Is there anyone else who would know? We’ll keep looking, we’ll keep… _ I’ll  _ keep...” He trailed off as his hands began to shake. 

Anger boiled with every word until Lance couldn’t take it anymore.

He shoved Keith. Not hard and not well, but he at least pushed him back a good arm’s length. Even through his anger, Lance was still holding on tight. Keith was a pinprick of light in a world of unknown darkness. 

“Listen to yourself. Bargain with Haggar? Are you crazy?” Lance’s voice grew, overtaken by hysteria and bouncing off metal walls. “I’m not worth it! I’m not worth it to keep around or make crackhead deals with the enemy over. Listen to yourself! You’re going to put the universe in danger over  _ nothing _ .” 

Keith shoved him, sending him stumbling and losing his grip on Keith. When Keith spoke his voice was so close that Lance could feel the breath ghosting over his face as Keith growled, “ _ You’re. Not. Nothing!  _ Not to the team, and  _ not to me _ !” 

There was silence as Keith panted. His voice retreated and he said, quieter, “Let’s just get back to the castle.” 

Lance swallowed back tears. There were too many emotions building up inside and they all wanted to spill out. They were a slurry of confusion, depression, and anger. Pushing them all down, he found Keith’s elbow again and nodded. 

Keith led them to Red without incident. After their brief exchange, neither of them had said a word to each other. Lance hated it. He wanted to chatter aimlessly about nothing so that he could ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach and the tightening around his lungs. But he knew if he opened his mouth, he’d regret whatever came out of it.

At their approach, Red lowered her shield and opened her mouth. Lance concentrated on breathing and tried to forget that he was about to be stuck with Keith for hours in a tight space. 

It felt like triple the time to get home then it did to get there. The only upside was reuniting with Red’s vision. The stars looked amazing; white lines cutting across the inky expanse of space. Lance soaked it up. 

They sat in silence except for the occasional whispered question of how much longer. It was supposed to be a two day trip minimum, so no one was expecting them upon arrival. It was also the castle’s night cycle which meant the chances of anyone greeting them were slim to none. 

As soon as Red landed, Lance announced pointlessly, “We’re here.” 

Keith grunted in acknowledgment and the chair creaked as he stood. Shouldering their bags out of storage, he said, “Yeah. I’ll brief Shiro in the morning, so...get some sleep. Then we’ll figure out what comes next.” 

Lance stood and held out his hands for his bag. “I can get back to my room by myself.” 

Depositing the strap in his hands, Keith said, almost kindly, “I know you can. We’ll talk in the morning.” The metallic echo of his footsteps followed him as he descended out of Red and into the hangar bay. 

Lance waited until the doors opened and shut behind Keith.

He dropped his bag and flopped back in the pilot chair. There was no way he was going to leave Red. Visual input was crack to his brain now. Being able to see through his lion was a million times better than staring at a lightbulb just to get  _ something visual _ . 

Red cooed at him, a worried sound with a hint of comfort. 

“I’m fine.” Lance stroked the handle of the pilot chair. "Let me stay? Just for tonight." 

Red purred a yes that eased his muscles.

"Thanks, girl." 

All he could see was the hanger but it was more than enough. Lance closed his eyes, taking in the vivid colors of the other lions. Color was a muddy memory and the lions were almost hard to look at in their brightness. 

As he sat the world began to shift. The hanger melted away and Lance sat up in a panic. Red's warm voice calmed him; she was going to show him, well, something. 

Lance relaxed back into the chair, letting the images flow through him.

They were memories. He was sure of it since the Keith in them had shorter hair and a grumpier expression. 

They didn't follow any timeline Lance understood. There were memories of Keith flying Red out of a volcano mixed in with a pilot Lance had never seen polishing Red’s claws. A huge Galra that was worthy of her, but caused her so much pain. 

Lance swore the Galra looked a lot like Sendak. Then again, all Galra looked pretty similar. He didn't want to assume. Plus, this guy had two eyes and both hands. Either way, knowing a Galra had piloted the lions was disturbing. 

At his discomfort, Red changed the memory to flying over a planet with two moons. Rainbow clumps of flowers swayed below and the sky was littered with stars. 

Slowly Lance fell asleep to Red's memories, dreaming of her past. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its been a while since the last update and thats because...i forgot this existed.... until someone commented on it :x life has been a LOT recently so i feel like i finally have been able to breathe. i'm hoping that this will give me more time to finish all my little stories. /o/
> 
> okay, peace out til next chapter and follow me on twitter [SailUncharted](https://twitter.com/SailUnchartd)


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